


The Birds

by Oceanera12



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: At Least he Will Be, Batfamily, Batman AU, Brother Feels, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce has not adopted any of these dorks, Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian Wayne is a good brother, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Family Story, Found Family, Gen, Jason Todd is Blue Jay, Jason Todd is Not Red Hood, Jason Todd is a good brother, No Romance, No shipping, Protective Siblings, Tim Drake is Crow, Tim Drake is Not Red Robin, Tim Drake is a Good Brother, Updates Fridays, actually, batbros, he hasn't met any of them yet, it will be explained, it's complicated - Freeform, this is all about the family bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28083534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oceanera12/pseuds/Oceanera12
Summary: "Fate must have a strange sense of humor putting the four of them under the same roof. Then again, it's Gotham. The city isn't exactly known for its sense of humor."AU where Dick is 12, Jason is 11, Tim is 10, and Damian is 8(?) and instead of being taken in by Bruce, the four of them end up together in a foster home run by a very neglectful parent. But they have each other so life isn't so bad. As long as they keep their heads down, get enough food, and not get caught in their various "activities", the four should be fine.So maybe they should learn to stop running into the Dark Knight of Gotham.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Tim Drake, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Jason Todd & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Comments: 180
Kudos: 557





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo... I have had this typed up for over a year and it's just been sitting in my Google docs only being enjoyed by me. So I thought, "Why not see if anyone would want to read this thing?"
> 
> So here I am!
> 
> I am just posting the first chapter to see if anyone is interested. If so, YAY, it gets completed! If not, then I'll just delete this and move on in life.
> 
> This idea was originally inspired by a fic I read a while back (if I can find it I'll put a link to it at some point), in which the Batboys get held up in school as hostages. While I was highly amused by the idea, I realized with their ages in the comics, the boys would never be in the same school at the same time. So I decided to change that. And then a lot more changes happened so whoops?
> 
> Also so people don't freak out: Dick is not suicidal. I PROMISE. You're just going to have to trust me on that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I break this stack of sticks, can I go?

_ The building was one of the highest Dick had ever climbed. He just wished he could enjoy the view. _

_ Nighttime Gotham City was one of Dick’s favorite sights. Lights from cars, buildings, and neon signs lit up the sky, painting the outline of dark buildings with all colors of the rainbow. At least if you could see it through the usual downpour. Sometimes, it felt like all the tears ever spilled were collected in the clouds above Gotham, then poured onto the city below. When it wasn’t raining, most of the stars were clouded by light pollution. If you wanted to see them, then you’d have to climb up on a tall apartment building, and even then, you were lucky to find one dim speck. One constant was the wind. It ripped across the land from the bay. It would bite you through clothing and leave you shivering unless you had properly prepared with layers upon layers. _

_ On this particular night, it was raining. Not the downpour that Dick generally tried to avoid, but a light mist that thoroughly soaked through his blue hoodie. The wind swirled around him, chilling his bones. It grabbed his hood and yanked it off, letting his hair whip wildly at its sudden freedom. Most nights he would replace it atop his head. _

_ Not tonight. _

_ He looked down at the air between him and the ground. It looked a long way down. The kind of drop that sent even his acrobatic heart into a panic. He could feel his pulse pounding in his throat. Wayne Tower was one thousand feet tall, according to Tim- _

_ Dick closed his eyes and bit down on his bottom lip. On most nights, he would swallow the sorrow. Swallow the tears. After all, most nights he had three brothers who needed someone to be strong for them. _

_ But not tonight.  _

_ His face was stained from the tears that had already fallen and despite his best efforts, they started up again. The salt mixed with the rain, leaving a sour taste in his mouth as Dick let out another sob. _

_ Something hard pressed against his head. Something small and round. Something cold as Gotham’s winds. _

_ Dick took a deep breath and looked down, his heart still racing. Thoughts slowed to a jog, then stopped. He was out of time.  _

_ His arms lifted up, with a mind of their own, spreading out into imaginary wings. Heart pounding in his chest, he swallowed the fear down. _

_ One last flight. _

_ He looked up at the sky. A break in the clouds revealed the full moon for a brief second, shining down onto his face before it disappeared forever. _

_ Then he jumped. _

* * *

Twelve-year-old Dick Grayson pulled his thin blue hood up around his head as he ducked out onto the streets. Although it was late June, every one of his brothers wore a thin jacket with a hood at all times. Sometimes they got strange looks, but Jason had insisted on it as a safety precaution. Dick hadn’t understood it at the time. At least, he hadn't until they had a run-in with the cops a month later. It hadn't been in the plan to participate in activities that could get him arrested.

Then again, his life had spiraled out of any “plan” a long time ago. 

He should have a happy family, swinging from the trapeze like a Flying Grayson. He should be traveling the world, making memories, and living a good life. But in all reality, life never turns out the way you expect it to.

For example, Dick had been planning to spend the day collecting tin cans and plastic water bottles to sell. Tim’s birthday was coming up in a few weeks (July 16th) and Dick wanted to give the kid something special- it was his first birthday in the system; the first without his father.

Then Damian had woken up before the sun and had run off-  _ again.  _ The entire morning consisted of Jason and Dick searching the city for their youngest “sibling", with Tim remaining at the house in the unlikely event that Damian returned of his own free will.

After three hours, Dick finally found the kid in an alley almost halfway across town, surrounded by his “adopted" army of pets. Most of them were alley cats (ten to be exact, each with their own name), but two stray dogs (Musky and Spot) were also present. 

Damian was sitting on a crate, two cats asleep on his lap. The others were purring at his feet, fighting for attention. He hadn’t noticed Dick yet as he spoke aloud, “-then Nightwing flew down from the light pole--perhaps he did not fly down, but he might as well have--doing a somersault in the air before landing on his feet, without a bit of a stumble. JayBird complained that he was a show-off like he does every time Wing does a trick and Crow started pestering him with questions about the circus-  _ again.  _ And I-”

“-wanted me to teach you, baby bird.” Dick teased with a smile.

All the animals bolted much to Damian’s displeasure. “You interrupted me! And do not call me a baby bird.”

“Aw, but you are the baby bird,” Dick grinned and tried to hug Damian, to which Damian ducked out of reach. 

Dick sighed, “All playfulness aside, you ran off again.” He plopped down next to Damian and tried to, again, sling his arm around him. The boy wiggled away.

“This is  _ Gotham City _ . Anything could happen to you.  _ Anything. _ You could be abducted by aliens and no one would be the wiser.” Dick sighed, “I’m not asking for your exact coordinates. Just tell me when and the area-”

“Then you follow me. Or Drake. And on the rare occasion, Todd.” Damian folded his arms, clearly annoyed. “I have survived on my own before. I do not need you to babysit me!”

Dick pinched his nose and sighed. “Once, there was a man-”

“ _ Oh my gosh _ , are we really doing this?”

“-who lived in the forest with his family.”

“We are doing this.” Damian pulled his knees into his chest and groaned.

Dick ignored him. “It was a quarrelsome family and after having tried in vain to teach them through words, the man thought it better to learn through an example. So, he called his sons and told them to lay a bundle of sticks at his feet. Then he tied them into a bundle. He told the boys, one after the other, to pick up the bundle and break it. The sons all tried but in vain. Then untying the sticks, the man gave them to break one by one. They did this with the greatest ease. Then said the Father-”

“-As long as you remain united like these sticks then you are no match for all your enemies, but differ and separate, and you are undone.” Damian finished with a sigh. “I know, I know. You have told me that story over a hundred times.”

Dick chuckled, “Well, I’ll tell it a hundred more times until it finally gets into your head that we are in this together.” He stood up and held out a hand, “Speaking of which, we need to get back. I’m sure Tim is trying to jam the police scanners to keep them from finding you.”

Damian shook his head but allowed his eldest “brother” to help him up. “ _ Ttt _ . I’ve only been gone for a few hours.”

“That’s long enough. Come on,  _ baby bird. _ ”

“I am not a baby!”

* * *

The apartment their foster parent owned was small. There was a small living area that consisted of a tiny kitchen and seating area, but the boys rarely saw it. Roman generally threw food into their room at meal times before retreating back to his television that was on twenty-four-seven. Dick couldn’t recall a time the muffled sounds of tv dramas and sport station talk fell silent. Roman slept on the couch. Correction: he lived on the couch, leaving only when he had to buy food. His job consisted of being a work-at-home salesman. His computer was on his lap from nine am to five pm, as he clicked and worked, half-watching, half-listening to game and reality tv shows.

Their ‘schooling’ was old textbooks Roman had bought off eBay (at one-point Roman had allowed them to attend the local public school, but after the first “parent-teacher” conferences, he pulled them out, claiming it was a waste of time and money).

Roman had one rule of the house: if no one was dying, then no bothering him. And honestly, none of the boys cared enough to break the rule. Damian had been with Roman the longest (since he was two- so about six years), with Jason the runner-up (four years, three months). Dick was right behind him (four years even) and Tim the newest addition to their little gang (just under a year).

The four shared a bedroom that had one window facing the alleyway. If Dick could count the number of times they climbed in and out of their little hideaway via the fire escape, then he would have been richer than Bruce Wayne. 

The room itself had two bunk beds pushed against the walls on separate sides of the room, leaving the window clear of clutter which made easy access to the window. Dick and Tim shared the one to the right; Jason and Damian to the left. Dick and Jason had claimed the top bunks, although Damian still complained about it. A small collection of clothes was piled up in the tiny closet in the corner. Mostly jeans and plain t-shirts. Under Tim’s bunk was a loose floorboard where they kept an emergency store of cash- about one hundred dollars.

Dick had insisted that the money was to be used in medical emergencies only, but Jason consistently snatched small bills and came back with a blanket or more food. He made sure to replace the money (through means that Dick suspected were not always honest) and usually did so before Dick noticed (which made him very frustrated).

When Damian crawled through the window, Jason smacked him on the back of his head. Tim settled for a quick hug, which Damian escaped from as soon as possible. “Can you quit doing that? Please?”

Dick jumped down from the window sill, choosing to ignore the open laptop on Tim’s bunk that was clearly attached to the radio antenna.

Damian hopped up on his bunk and smirked, “You have your hobbies and I have mine.”

“Running away and talking to alley cats is  _ not _ a hobby.” Jason retorted back.

Damian raised an eyebrow, “It is less destructive than yours Mr. “ _ Breaking and Entering _ ”.

Jason stiffened, taking a defensive position. “I do  _ not- _ ” He cut himself off, taking a deep breath. “I like…  _ testing _ locks. I don’t steal anything… usually.” He pointed at Tim, who was shutting his laptop quickly and quietly. “At least  _ I _ don’t  _ jam  _ police scanners.”

Tim froze. “I- _ I-  _ I- I  _ don’t _ \- I was hiding Damian! I have an excuse!”

“It’s still illegal.”

Tim shoved his computer under his pillow and the old antenna under his bed, clearly self-conscious.

Dick pinched his nose. Fate must have a strange sense of humor putting the four of them under the same roof. Then again, it's Gotham. The city isn't exactly known for its sense of humor.

(The Joker was not funny, no matter what he claimed.)

Damian had been enough excitement for Dick’s day so no way in Gotham was he putting up with a Tim and Jason argument. It was already two in the afternoon! Time to get on with the original plan: collecting plastic bottles and cans.

“I’m going out,” Dick informed everyone.

Damian immediately protested. “You can wander off by yourself, but I can't?”

Dick bit back a groan. His mind scrambled for a second before coming up with a solution. “You can come with me, Damian, if you’d like.” Dick could handle the kid (when he wasn’t running off) and Damian had always liked secrets. What better secret was there than a surprise birthday present?

“Where would we be going?”

“The park.” Plenty of cans in the trash that could be salvaged.

Damian rolled his eyes, “Come on, Wing. Why can't we go somewhere more exciting?”

Jason had to pipe up, “Kid's got a point. Maybe we could all go down to the wharf.”

Tim appeared interested in that, his posture perking up just a few inches.

Dick sighed in defeat. He would have to aim for another day. Again. At this rate, he’d need to talk to Jason, which was the last thing he wanted to do. Gotham only knew where that cash came from. 

But hey, a family outing might be just what they all needed right now. His parents had always told Dick that family time was the best time. “Alright, the wharf it is. Everyone coming?”

No one answered verbally but scattered to grab their various bags and supplies.

“I'm gonna take that as a yes.” Dick grabbed his own bag and slung it over his shoulder, already packed with some snacks he had smuggled out of Roman’s cupboard and a full old water bottle he dug out of a dumpster and had cleaned up.

Definitely not how he planned his day to go- but at least Jason wasn’t breaking into someone’s car.

Again.


	2. When Birds Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four birds walk onto a wharf  
> They are joined by a waddle of Penguins  
> All are then found by a Bat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! 2021, let's see what you have in store for us.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who left kudos and comments about wanting to see more of this story. I am pleasantly surprised at the number and I am so grateful to everyone. I also had to exercise some self-control on many of the brilliant questions that were asked of me because SPOILERS!
> 
> There was one comment I did want to publicly respond to and that was from savyour950. They said, "I’m also curious to see if Roman is going to have much of a role because he has been known to be pretty nasty when he’s a villain."
> 
> Me: "Uh..." *types in Roman and Batman comics before smacking myself in the face* Okay, I totally forgot that Black Mask's civilian ID is Roman Sionis and I'm really annoyed about this because I KNEW that, but I forgot that so... yeah. Anyway, Roman is an OC that you're not really going to see at all and I felt like I should let everyone know that. So Roman is NOT Black Mask, but DANG that would have been cool.
> 
> Also thanks to Gray_Skies_Rising for finding the original fic that (lightly) inspired the Birds: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15487920 --------- ‘an interesting school day’ by TheFullmetalsociopath
> 
> Without further ado, Chapter 1!

The wharf was not a place kids generally hung out. Then again, they were not “general” in any sense of the word. “General kids” got a kick out of playgrounds, ball games, hide and seek, and video games. 

Dick liked using old cranes as swings, and regularly jumped down to a lower platform, flipping or spinning in the air. Jason liked to climb up on the large storage containers and leap between them to test his speed and his endurance, or read a book (if he had one) near the waterfront. Tim enjoyed crawling around inside any machinery lying around and tried to figure out how it worked, especially if it looked like no one had touched it in years. And Damian tried to train the seagulls.

Dick was still trying to figure that last one out. “They’re birds, not dogs.”

“The concept cannot be that much different from dog training,” Damian replied evenly. “Reward them with food when they complete the task I want.”

Jason was standing behind the youngest and exchanged confused looks with his eldest brother. Tim ignored them, completely focused on the map in his hands. “I think we might have missed our turn”

“Two more streets, then right. After the donut shop, remember?” Dick corrected him gently.

Damian gave a soft, “ _ Tt _ ,” clearly exasperated. “Tim is trying to use a map in a city where we have all lived for at least four years and you are questioning me about training birds?”

“It is never a sin to be prepared,” Tim argued back.

“Prepared for what? Streets to move?” Jason shot back.

Tim wasn't fazed. “Jay Bird. We live in  _ flippin’ Gotham City.  _ Aliens could descend from the sky and no one would even raise an eyebrow.”

“He's got a point there,” Dick interceded.

“Superman is an alien,” Jason argued, unwilling to give ground. “Do you think him descending from the sky would be a bad thing?”

“There are more aliens out there than Superman,” Tim replied. “And they might not be as friendly.”

The argument ended as they arrived at their dock. As did their elation.

Jason cursed. “Stupid millionaire.”

“Billionaire.” Tim corrected.

Damian rolled his eyes. “Millionaire? Billionaire? Does it really matter?”

According to the large sign that hung on the high wire fence, the previously abandoned dock had a new owner:  _ Wayne Enterprises.  _ And right under the lovely brand read, “Authorized Personnel Only.”

Dick kicked a nearby rock and sent it flying. It hit the sign with a small  _ ping _ . “Well, who’s up for donuts?” There was a shop just behind them, and four glazed donuts were cheap enough

Jason rolled his eyes then grabbed the fence with his hands, looking upward. Dick grabbed Jason’s wrist, his own eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?”

“Uh…” Jason looked through the chain-link then back at Dick. “Climbing the fence. What else?”

“That’s trespassing,” Tim noted. “That’s illegal.”

Jason gave him this look. It clearly said something along the lines of  _ “You’re kidding right? _ ” Then he turned back to the fence and hoisted himself up, scaling it without much difficulty. Damian followed close behind.

Dick rolled his eyes, “I would like to go on record saying you are a bad influence, Jay Bird.”

“Noted. And you don’t normally care about trespassing.”

Dick pointed at the sign, “Well, this used to not have a sign. Now it does. So that probably means it isn’t going to be abandoned much longer, if at all.”

Jason smirked, “ _ Chicken?” _

“No!”

“Then come on!”

Tim looked around carefully before tossing his messenger bag over to Jason, who was already waiting to catch it, then slowly climbed up with a little help from Dick. And Dick… well he just flipped up on a box, then flipped over the top of the fence and landed on the other side.

“Show off,” was the only comment from Jason before the boys split to their various positions. Dick on the cranes, Jason on the docks, Tim under the cranes, and Damian with the birds.

Definitely not normal kids.

* * *

Several hours, a stone skipping contest, and a few rounds of hide and seek later, the sun started to finally lower over the horizon.

The boys were on the last round of hide and seek for the night (Dick warned Jason not to break into anything. Jason didn’t listen, as usual). Dick ended up climbing under the dock. He stayed there until Damian was yelling at the top of his lungs about if Dick didn’t come out right now he’d jump off the pier- which would be very bad since the kid couldn’t swim. The young acrobat flipped up to a waiting group of Birds who all looked annoyed. He unsuccessfully tried to hide a smile.

“Wing,” Tim started but Jason beat him to it.

“No more hiding under there. Seriously, we can’t get to you without getting wet. And that's just cheating.

“Sorry.” Dick rubbed the back of his neck but was still grinning. “Come on, it’s getting dark. We should start heading back.” They all knew that when the shadows were long and the light was getting dim, that was when the crazies came out to play.

“Can we stay a little longer, please?” Damien pleaded, “It’s not like Roman will notice, or even care, that we’re gone.”

“He’s got a point.” Tim chirped. “And I think I almost got that old crane working.”

Jason slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed towards the fence.  _ “No.” _

Dick had grown grateful for Jason’s time spent basically living on the streets for only one reason. It made him adamant that, if he could help it, Tim and Damian were not on the streets after dark.

Dick followed Jason and motioned for the other two to follow. “Come on, the night guard should be coming soon anyway and we need to leave. I’m not paying for that toolshed handle Jay Bird broke.”

“Don’t be such a killjoy, Wing!” Jason called over his shoulder, “At least I didn’t break into the “office” building!”

Damien grumbled something about things being more fun when he was alone as he packed up his little bits of bread and picked up his drawstring backpack. Tim threw his computer in his bag without a sound of protest.

Now, most crimes in Gotham happened at night- which drove Tim insane. He had repeatedly given lectures to the Birds about if criminals would work in the day then Batman would have a lower probability of sneaking up on them or even showing up (unless it was a major criminal like the Joker). Dick had learned over the past year that when Tim went into lecture mode it was best to just half-listen or just tune him out completely. Tim would eventually figure out no one was paying attention and stop, but Dick appreciated when the kid came out of his timid shell. Heaven knew he should speak up more.

So, when an armored truck decided to come to the ‘new’ Wayne dock at dusk by ramming through the locked gates, Dick prayed Tim hadn’t posted his lecture online.

There was no time to ask about that now. Dick grabbed Damian and Tim by the wrists and yanked them out of the path of destruction, the three of them tumbling to the ground. Jason rolled in the opposite direction, before coming to a crouched position. He slung his backpack off one shoulder and zipped it open, pulling out an old steel pipe as the passenger door opened and a tall man with blonde hair came out, holding a gun.

Dick dragged Tim and Damian to their feet and shoved them behind him. Damian went to protest about his treatment but was cut off by Tim elbowing him in the ribs. “It’s the Penguin. Shut up.”

Dick felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the words. They rose even higher when the truck opened up and out climbed three more armed men and, sure enough, The Penguin.

Oswald Cobblepot was a little confused when he saw the four kids in jackets. His informant had told him Wayne had only owned the dock for a few days and no movement had been made to repair or restore it. It was fenced off with only nightly checks for any additional damage that might have been done in the day. Security cameras hadn’t even been properly installed and that made it perfect for an early weapons deal. No one should be here for at least an hour or two.

He shrugged. It shouldn’t be a large problem. Just hold the kids until the deal was done. No one likes a tattletale. He motioned for two of his men to grab them.

Penguin was not prepared for what happened next. 

One of his men turned towards the single kid in the red hood and pointed his gun. “Don't even think about it, kid!” He moved forward to take the pipe.

Red didn’t try and run. Heck, he didn’t even flinch. He just tightened his grip on the pipe and swung.  _ Hard. _

The gun clattered to the ground and the goon yelped in pain. Red swung again without hesitation, this time making physical contact with the man’s legs and knocking him to his knees. Another hit to the head and suddenly Penguin had an unconscious henchman.

The other guard had slightly better luck. Slightly. Blue jacket was standing protectively in front of gray and black. Blue yelled, “Crow, take Robin and go!” then leaped forward in a front handspring and kicked the other man in the face. Black hoodie grabbed the wrist of gray and dragged him deeper into the dock, much to Gray's clear displeasure based on his loud complaints. Something about not being a baby and taking care of himself.

Penguin's man lurched back from Blue’s kick and tried to recover, only for Blue to kick the gun out of his hand, knock his legs out, flip over him to avoid the sloppy attempted punch, then kick the backside of his head.

Correction: Penguin now had two unconscious guards.

Uh…. Cobblepot wasn’t sure what to do for a second. Yes, he was a criminal. Yes, he was used to strange things happening (fighting a man in a Batsuit had stopped being weird after the first year). But two kids no more than thirteen knocking two of his thugs out was not something he had been expecting.  _ Ever _ .

‘Crow’ and ‘Robin’ had fled the scene and were now probably hiding among the storage containers. Or getting the coppers… Blue and Red were now together standing in between Penguin's goons and their two fled accomplices. Red was holding his weapon at the ready and Blue was tense and ready to pounce.

The other crooks finally recovered from their shock and had their guns trained on the two boys as Penguin debated what to do. He could shoot them, obviously. But did he really want blood on his hands right now, especially two children? No, his current client was paying quite a bit of money and murder would get the Bat’s attention (especially if it was kids). 

Blue suddenly spoke up, cutting Penguin's thoughts off. “A pipe? Seriously, JayBird? You carry  _ a pipe _ in your bag?”

Red, now dubbed ‘JayBird’, flicked his head at blue, “Would you rather I carry a knife, Nightwing?  _ Or a gun? _ ”

“I was just asking, no need to get all wound up.”

Penguin raised an eyebrow.  _ ‘Nightwing?’ ‘JayBird?’ _ Who would name their kids that?

He shook his head. Now was not the time. He couldn’t kill them. But they could be nice insurance in case the Bat decided to show. “Take ‘em boys.  _ Alive _ . And maybe don't get beat up by some kids this time!”

Nightwing and JayBird tensed, ready to put up a fight against the four remaining goons that were closing in. They shuffled their positions a bit, JayBird finding himself against the big boy and two guns. Wing wasn’t much better, facing two guns and a knife from the guy on his left. Wing backed up a step, bumping into JayBird. Jay pressed an elbow into Wing’s ribs as if letting him know he wasn’t alone.

The old crane above suddenly whirled to life. It creaked and groaned, breaking through at least twenty years of rust and dust. Everyone looked up to watch in fascination as it swung around and then dropped directly onto the armored vehicle. The four-ton weight crushed the back cab and, Penguin realized a second too late, the merchandise.

A small gray blur suddenly  _ dropped out of the sky _ onto one of his men. Penguin had time to identify the blur as the aforementioned ‘Robin’ before the kid wrapped his arms and legs around his man’s neck and face, attempting to cut his air off.

Nightwing and Jay Bird didn’t wait for another second as they sprung forward engaging with the other three goons. Nightwing lunged at one man, knocking both to the ground. JayBird charged at the big boy, pipe swinging.

Penguin felt his blood boil. His guns and other weapons had just been destroyed by some little kids! This deal had gone south before it had even begun. He drew his umbrella and shrieked, “Shoot them!” To heck with Batman and to heck with caution. These kids had just lost him a small fortune and they were going to pay for it, dang it!

Robin struggled to keep his grip and was finally thrown to the ground when the Thug slammed his gun into the boy’s face. He landed with a large ‘ _ thud _ ’. His previous captor now turned their gun on him, his face red from anger. “Why you  _ little- _ !”

“ROBIN!” Nightwing screamed from the ground. He tried to jump up, but his opponent grabbed his ankle and yanked him back to the ground. Robin scrambled backward on his hands and feet, trying to put distance between himself and the bullet.

It never hit flesh as someone  _ else  _ dropped down from the sky. Pure black spread out in front of the downed child and the goon recognized the shape one second too late. Batman swung around and knocked the weapon out of his hand, then landed a perfect right hook on said man's cheek. The shooter reeled back and didn’t even have a chance to regain his balance as a swift sharp kick to his leg made a bone snap. He screamed and fell to the ground, clearly down for the rest of the fight.

Which really wasn’t much of a fight. The Bat was a storm of fury as he swept through the remaining three guards without taking a single blow. Two were knocked out in a matter of seconds with the last surrendering without a shot.

All the while, the three boys watched; frozen in place with a mix of fascination and awe.

When Batman finished with the last goon he bit back a curse. Penguin was nowhere in sight. Most likely he had run off at the sight of the suit with the realization that attacking children was not the smartest decision.

And Batman would be sure to remind Cobblepot of that the next time he saw him.

The Bat began to drag over and cuff all six goons to the fender of the crushed truck. It was an old task he had done hundreds of times before which allowed him to turn his attention to the kids. All of them were wearing thin jackets, which he found a bit odd for late June. Even stranger, the hoods were raised, shading the children’s faces and making it a bit harder to identify any prominent features. Their clothing wasn’t new but did not appear overly patchy either. Blue and Red had black backpacks and the previously identified Robin had a black drawstring bag.

His first thought was the kids may be working for a rival of the Penguin. Maybe Two-Face or Black Mask. But if that was the case, then they should have run off at the sight of Batman. Or just run off when they were spotted. Children were not exactly known for being soldiers. Spies and informants, yes. Actual fighting? No.

Robin was still on the ground where he had fallen, trying to shake the one in blue off of him. “I am fine, Wing! It is a scratch! There is barely any blood!”

“Let me see, baby bird-”

“Do  _ not  _ call me that! I am not a baby!”

Blue chuckled, “Are you sure? Because you sometimes act like it. Let me just see-”

If they were informants, they cared quite a bit about one another. Even if they are children, Batman would expect them to only care about their own reward. Not about their “rivals”.

Red jacket grabbed Wing’s shoulder and pulled him back, “He’s fine.” He held out his hand and helped Robin to his feet. “Congrats, Robin, you just got your first battle scar.”

The gray hood moved from right to left as “Robin’s” head shook in a negative gesture, “It wasn’t that deep, Jay. It won’t scar!”

“Not if you don’t scratch at it.” Jay’s voice was smug and Batman suspected the boy was smirking.

Wing elbowed Jay, “Don’t encourage him.” Wing turned to Robin and folded his arms, now all business. “I told you to run with Crow. Why didn’t you listen?”

_ Crow? _ Batman frowned at the name. Surely they didn’t mean Scarecrow? No child should interact with that man. Ever.

“We weren’t just going to leave you!” Robin protested.

“You could have been killed!”

“I wasn’t!”

Batman finished cuffing the last criminal and finally stood up straight effectively cutting off any snide remark. He approached the three of them before crouching down to be at eye level with Robin. “Are you alright?” The change of eye level would help relax the three of them. No one liked to be towered over. It would also help Batman note any features for the nightly report. Especially his mask cam.

Batman could now partially see Robin’s face, although the shadows still hid or blurred defining traits. The boy looked of middle eastern descent, but his accent was definitely Gotham- albeit not as heavy as Jay's. If he had to give a description, Robin's accent sounded more proper and less street. Like he was trying to sound higher class than his actual station. Meanwhile, Jay had the heavy tones and pronunciations of the Crime Alley area. Wing was the only one who sounded from “out-of-town”, the Gotham tone lightly sprinkled in a few words. Instead, an accent Batman couldn’t quite place ruled dominant in the boy’s speech patterns. Wing had a protective grip on Robin’s shoulder, his body stiff and ready to bolt at the slightest sound. His complexion was darker than Jay’s, but not quite Robin’s color. All three had dark hair, either brown or black. It was hard to tell with the hoods.

Robin had his mouth hanging open, clearly in shock that  _ Batman _ was talking to him.  _ The _ Bat, Dark Knight, protector of Gotham.

Nightwing elbowed Robin gently, effectively snapping him out of his shock. Robin bowed slightly at the waist and bobbed his head, “Yes, Batman, sir. Thanks to you.”

“Yeah,” Jay shoved his hands into his pockets. His tone was uneasy and he clearly did not want to be there. “What he said.”

Batman nodded in return to both. “What were you three doing out here?”

Wing began to bounce his fists against his sides, nervously. Batman raised an eyebrow and Wing tried to respond, the words coming out in a stammer. “Uh… well… We-”

“We were trespassing,” a voice said from behind, “And there are four of us.”

Batman whirled around to find yet another child, only slightly taller than Robin, wearing a black jacket and a red messenger bag slung over his shoulder. His accent was also Gotham, but was surprisingly more “high-class”. The kid sounded like he should be in prep school, not on the wharf after hours. 

The other three boys sprinted around the Bat. Wing practically tackled the boy to the ground with a hug. Batman could see the large grin on his face as Black hugged him back. 

Wing pulled back and lightly punched the kid’s shoulder, “I’m going to assume that was you with the crane.”

Robin nodded, “You should have seen him, Wing! Crow just pulled off the panel and crossed a few wires and then  **_‘bam_ ** !’”

Ah. So this was “Crow”. Batman felt a bit of relief at that realization. 

Jay nodded at the younger boy, his expression stoic, but there must have been some clue of approval or something because Crow looked away, clearly embarrassed. Then he looked up at Batman. “Thank you for saving Robin, Mr. Batman.”

Crow was not like the others. He looked directly at where Batman’s eyes would be (if the mask was not covering them) and did not appear frightened by his presence. His response of “trespassing” had been delivered with such a blunt tone, Batman found no reason to doubt him. And his thanks had been similar in genuinity, unlike Jay’s who gave it with caution.

Batman nodded politely, to Crow. He made a mental note to get the security on this dock upgraded and post someday guards until construction began. And probably after it began. The last thing he needed on his conscience was the accidental deaths of four children due to trespassing. From criminals or civilians. Speaking of criminals…

“Do any of you know what Penguin was doing here?” Batman asked as gently as he could. “Did he say anything about who he was to meet here or what was stored in the truck?” He could always look in the crushed truck, but it would take time to pry the crane off the crushed metal and who knew the extent of damage on the inside.

One by one, they all shook their heads. Batman heard the sounds of sirens approaching in the distance and turned to check that none of the criminals had gotten loose (it had happened only twice before, but better safe than sorry). Commissioner Gordon was on time, as usual, and would have the proper vehicles for transporting the six to the station. Finding them secure he began to turn back to the boys. “When the police get here, they will need to take a state-'' he stopped speaking when he found the previous spot they had occupied, empty.

Huh. So that's how it felt to be on the other side of the vanishing act.

Batman looked up just in time to see Crow drop to the other side of the fence and the four boys run across the street. He went to follow, but then the squad cars pulled up and blocked the kids from view. By the time he got around, they had vanished.

Gordon got out of his car and followed Batman’s gaze down the street. “Did you miss some? Do we need a patrol to chase?”

“...No. It was nothing.” Batman turned back around and walked with the Commissioner back to the crime scene, leaving the four Birds to themselves.

* * *

“I am sorry, sir, but,” Alfred looked through his rearview mirror at the man in the back seat. “Four boys took on  _ six  _ of Penguin's men?”

Bruce Wayne nodded, “Knocked out two of them before I even arrived.” He looked back down at his tablet, which was displaying the daily news of Gotham. Veronica Vreeland’s charity ball next month was the main point of interest as Alfred had insisted he make a public appearance.  _ “She is your friend and she expressed a strong desire for you to attend.” _

“My goodness, sir.” Alfred shook his head, “What on earth were they thinking?”

Bruce laid the tablet and article aside, turning his attention to the passing landscape. “I managed to find one of the old cameras working. It confirmed their trespassing story. They were on the property several hours before Penguin arrived with his men. It was just a situation of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He paused and allowed a small smile, “One of them managed to start up one of the old cranes and dropped it on the armored truck. Any guns that were not damaged were pinned in between the roof and ground.” The smile faded, “That was when Penguin ordered his men to fire.”

“Thank the heavens above you arrived. Who were they, Master Bruce?” Alfred pulled into the mansion driveway, got out of the car, walked around, and opened the back door.

Bruce politely thanked him before answering the question, “To be honest, I’m not sure. They called one another names; Robin, Crow, Jay, and Nightwing. I highly doubt those are their given names. Perhaps they play superheroes together and those are their codenames.” He smiled. “Much more creative than ‘Batboy’ or ‘Batkid’. You have to appreciate that.” 

The two entered the empty mansion together. Alfred took their coats and hung them up in the coat closet. “Well, Master Bruce. Sounds like quite an adventure. One, which I hope, will not be repeated?” He cocked his head to the side, the silent question.

Bruce chuckled, “Already looking into public school records in an attempt to find their families. I’m sure they were in a hurry to get home and had no desire to be picked up at the police station by their parents. When I find them, I will inform their parents.”

“Very good, sir,” Alfred nodded. And thus the subject was dropped. After all, the night was fast approaching. It was time for Bruce to start his “other job”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big bad bat doesn't like when criminals hurt kids, oh no siree.
> 
> Anyway, if you saw any typos or if there is anything you think can be improved upon, do not be afraid to point it out. I love constructive criticism because there is always an improvement to grow, right? Also, please feel free to ask questions and I will try and answer them (as long as they are not spoilers). I also have a tumblr under the same username where you can come ask me questions there about The Birds, or whatever you are feeling. ( https://oceanera12.tumblr.com/ )
> 
> The Birds will be updating every Friday unless otherwise stated so I will see y'all in a week! Be safe out there and remember to find the smiles in life!


	3. Runnin' Robin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He runs through the alleys, all night long  
> Hoppin' and hidin' and runnin' from home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I would like to start with saying thank you all so much for the support last week. Your words made me smile in a time of sadness. As I am deleting the chapter that all of those comments were connected to, they shall vanish into the stratosphere, but I am so thankful for each and every one of them. I literally am only a few chapters into this story and so many of you reached out with words of compassion and understanding. Y'all are amazing!
> 
> So this week has been really stressful for me and if y'all saw my update last week (I'm deleting that chapter after this is posted) then you know it's just been a hard month. And I was thinking about it and realized that guess what: this month is not going to get any better for me.
> 
> So how do I combat feelings of despair and anxiety? By making other people smile and have a bright spot in their day! And so, here is the next chapter of The Birds.
> 
> This chapter will shed... some light on Damian's situation. I've had a lot of people ask about how is Damian even in Gotham, if he's actually Bruce's kid, what happed to Thalia, etc. And most of the questions are going to remain unanswered at the moment. But you are going to get a look into what exactly goes on in the little Robin's head.

Damian woke up in cold sweat around three in the morning without a sound. His breathing didn’t change from the deep sleep pattern and he didn’t sit up straight in fright. The only thing that would even indicate his fear was his eyes flying open. He stared at the wall, back turned to the world. Even if Drake had been up (which he was not for once in his life), he would not have known Damian was up unless Damian chose to reveal it.

When he was younger, Damian had nightmares quite frequently. He had always reacted in the same way. Silent, with little to no movement. He had thought that was normal. Then the others came along. Only two days after his arrival, Todd sat up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath. The sounds were soft, but they still caused Damian to leap out of bed, ready to punch anything that moved. When Grayson arrived, the young acrobat woke up screaming the first night.

That was when Damian realized his "way" was not normal.

Grayson comforted Todd and later Drake when they had their frequent nightmares. That “comforting” was either rubbing their back, humming an old Romani lullaby, or just whispering a story quietly (As for Grayson’s nightmares, the brother had his own way of coping. Ways that caused frequent whispered arguments on the fire escape between Todd and Grayson). Damian had been awake for every single one of those comfort sessions.

Damian woke up every time someone snuck out of or into the apartment. Or just whenever someone else was awake. He knew what every single one of his brothers sounded like when they left and when they returned. He knew who was lying awake in the dark, too afraid to go back to bed. He knew who had been gone all night and pretended not to notice the bags under their eyes.  He attributed all this knowledge to being a light sleeper. Why else would he jump at the slightest of sounds?

Sometimes, Damian was tempted to tell Grayson about his nightmares too. He never acted on such desires. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of them or anything- all of them had nightmares! But his… his were different. They were… fuzzy, out of focus. He would often forget the dream when he woke up, left only with a strange empty feeling in his chest.

He knew only three things for sure.

  1. Someone was yelling at him. It was not always the same person but he was pretty sure one of them was a woman.
  2. There was always pain. It varied in where and how much, but it was always present.
  3. An image of red sprayed out on snow was very prevalent and he hated it.



But these points never connected and Damian was just left with… nonsense. How do you explain nonsense to the only three people in your life who all dream about their parents’ various deaths? No, their time was best spent elsewhere.

(There was another reason; one Damian couldn’t quite verbalize and chose to ignore. He felt like if he made a sound, even just a single sound of weakness, something bad would happen. This was, of course, preposterous. Grayson had never hurt him before, neither had Todd or Drake (unless you count teasing or the occasional wrestle) so he didn’t quite understand the instinct. But he had no plans to ever break it.)

The only question is, how does one deal with nightmares alone? Sometimes Damian would just lay there and think about one of Grayson’s ridiculous stories, or Todd’s dangerous stunts. Other times he would sit up and wrap himself in his blanket, then watch Drake and Grayson sleep, his mind blank as a slate.

But on most nights, and on this particular one, he did one thing. He ran.

Damian quietly folded back his sheets, slung his backpack over his shoulder, then climbed out the window without making a single wood plank creak. He had memorized the layout of the squeaky boards on his first week here- his second year with Roman and only a few months before Todd arrived. The fire escape was also memorized, although much more difficult. Damian generally slid down one of the side poles like a fireman. The ground was a little bit of a drop, but heights had never frightened him.

He always checked the window and surrounding area before he sprinted off. Away from his nightmares, away from his brothers, away from his prison. There was never a destination in mind, but Damian would remember the way home as he cataloged each turn and landmark in his mind. Notes of where to turn and which street he took became a list of directions that had never steered him wrong. Damian could never remember getting lost in Gotham, despite its size.

He ran down the street, knowing when to duck behind a dumpster or into one of the convenience stores. He knew how to hide, jump up onto fire escapes, climb into sewer grates, crawl under cars, and simply duck out of sight. The gray hoodie was easy to hide within the shadows, although black would have been preferred. But Grayson had offered that color to Drake since crows were black.

Damian sprinted, leaped, ducked, and basically flew across the streets for the next hour, only pausing twice at public water fountains for a drink. He didn’t stop until he was several miles from home at one of his more distant “outposts”. There was only an old Tomcat that was a frequent visitor, but Damian enjoyed his company all the same. On this particular night, old Tom appeared to be out on one of his rare hunting travels, which left Damian to sit alone on an empty crate to catch his breath.

_ Deep breath in, deep breath out… _

As his lungs slowly stopped burning, his senses branched out to the few cars driving around at night, the noise from a nearby casino, and of course, the distant sirens. His thoughts turned inward.

It had been about a week since their run-in with Batman. That little dance with death had sent Damian’s long faded nightmares into a frenzy. He had been unable to get a full night’s sleep since the incident and the past three days had been hours of just lying awake.

In silence. Which translates to very dull and very boring.

The previous four days had consisted of the others having their own nightmares resurge (to literally no one’s surprise). Death was not an unfamiliar concept to any of them… at least for the other three. Damian had no idea how familiar he was to it. The drawbacks to being abandoned on the steps of a church, he supposed. His parents could be dead. Maybe only one was dead and the other hadn’t wanted him. Or they could have been unable to raise him and decided to hope for adoption.

If that was the case, maybe they shouldn’t have picked Star City as a place to drop off their kid. Roman was a joke of a foster parent and had never given Damian the illusion of adoption to cling to. Two years later, Roman had packed up a tiny car and moved to Gotham-- and somehow, Damian had gone with him. Gotham hadn’t been much of a change from Star City, despite being on the opposite side of the country. But Damian had found he liked Gotham better, especially with the addition of the fire escape in their new apartment. Cats really liked to climb on them and Damian only had to open a window and offer food to make a friend.

Of course, a few months later, Todd had come along and had not appreciated the cats. He was followed shortly by Grayson. Now Damian’s cat and dog interactions were mainly on the streets during his many running offs.

Damian wasn’t sure how long he sat there, feeling the night around him. It might have been only a few minutes, but he suspected it was hours. However long it was, it had been long enough to detect an irregularity.

Someone was watching him. He could feel their eyes on him, hear their breathing, although it was disguised well. Damian fingered the pocket knife in his front jacket pocket but made no move to draw it. At least, not yet. There was a shift in the stalker’s position, which allowed Damian to find the basic direction it came from. Behind him, or more specifically, above him, probably on the building. And that particular swishing noise came from only one thing Damian had heard.

It was the same swishing that had been haunting his dreams the past week, along with the sound of a bullet slamming into it.

“I know you are there.” Damian opened his eyes and stood to his feet, but did not turn around. “You do not have to hide.”

Batman seemed to materialize from the shadows from above as he dropped down next to the youngest bird. “Robin,” he greeted politely.

Damian nodded, “Batman.”

“I’m impressed you knew I was here.”

Damian shrugged, “I heard you.”

Batman might have raised an eyebrow under his cowl, but Damian wasn’t positive. “You  _ heard _ me?”

“Yes.” Damian sat back down on his box. 

Batman looked as though he wanted to say more, but chose not to. “What are you doing out here so late?”

“It is morning.” Damian pointed at the now pink-tinted sky and did a quick light to time calculation. “About four. And I could ask you the same thing.”

Batman might have smiled, but it was so quick Damian decided it was more likely a trick of the light. “I am the night.”

Damian scoffed, “Seriously?”

“It’s my best time.”

“Ttt.” Damian kicked a metal can at his feet and sent it tumbling across to the alley wall.

They sat in silence for a moment before Batman asked again. “What are you doing out here? I am sure your family will be worried when they find you gone this morning.”

“Why would they be worried?” Damian scoffed.

Batman paused for a moment. He appeared to think for a moment before asking, his tone much more cautious. “Do they know you’re out?”

“No,” Damian replied. 

Batman cocked his head to the side. “Robin… do you live in a bad home?”

Well, that was a loaded question. “Perhaps I should explain better,” Damian shoved his hands in his pockets. “No, they do not know that I am out. But, in about an hour, they will wake up. Then they shall spend the first part of the day looking for me.” Damian stated it as a fact, but couldn’t quite keep the satisfaction of that situation out of his voice.

Batman appeared to pick up on it and now appeared a little confused. “And… that is a good thing?”

Damian resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “If I lived in a bad home, would they look for me?”

“... Yes.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Why would they do that? If they do not want the child, then why would they look for them?”

“To keep the law out of their business,” Batman replied. “A runaway child can indicate mistreatment in some cases. So are you running away?”

Damian blinked. “... Ttt. My brothers would never let me.”

“Then why run?” Batman asked.

Damian frowned. “Because.”

“.... That didn’t answer my question.”

“Get used to disappointments.” Damian retorted, his voice bitter. He remembered hearing that line in a movie Drake had bootlegged a few months back and he had rather liked the saying. It summed up his life perfectly.

Disappointing parents (he assumed), disappointing foster home, and just his life in general. And one day, he’d be left behind by disappointing “brothers”. After all, why would they stick around for an orphaned nobody when no one else did?

“Do you run often?”

“Why do you care?” Damian snapped. “You don’t even know me!” He leaned back on the wall, “Don’t worry, they’ll find me by noon. Unless they decide not to look for me.”

“Have they ever done that?”

“Not yet.” Damian’s voice had a nervous ring, despite his efforts to keep it calm. He really needed to work on his flat voice.

“Maybe I should take you to a police--”

“I.  _ Am _ .  **_Fine_ ** .”

Batman didn’t respond for a moment. He reached into his belt and held out to the boy a small, cylinder device. “If you run into any trouble, activate this beacon and I’ll come.”

Damian stared at the device but made no effort to take it. “I do not need your charity.”

“It isn’t-”

“I’m not taking it.” Damian interrupted. He motioned in the direction of sirens that just started up again in the distance, “And do you not have other places to be?”

Batman didn’t move for a moment, then slipped the cylinder back into his belt. “Be safe, Robin.”

“Oh sweet Gotham, just GO!”

Without responding the Bat turned away and melted into the shadows. Damian sat on his crate until the sun rose, then began to walk back in the general direction of Roman’s.

Todd found him almost two hours later and promptly yelled at him, claiming this was the last time he’d come and look for him and he meant it. He had said something similar last week if Damian was remembering correctly, but he chose not to say anything about it. Instead, he silently took the lecture from Todd, and later Grayson. Drake would simply request of him to not do it again and Damian would simply shrug with no comment. 

One day they would disappoint him. They’d wake up and find his empty bed and decide he was not worth the effort. One day they would give up on him and leave him to the streets. One day, Damian would become like his alley cats, hungry and cold at all times. It would happen, one day. He would find out instantly. Best to rip the pain off like a band-aid. Figure out you are the problem, then move on. That was the plan.

He just was not sure why it had not happened yet.

And he was not so sure how he would react to it this time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Damian was found in Star City originally, then later came to Gotham.
> 
> As for the why to that situation? Um... maybe Roman wanted a change of scenery? I don't really know if I'm being honest.
> 
> And again, I cannot decide if Damian just has really good senses or if he has some "meta" powers... from something in his past. And now I am keeping my mouth shut on that issue because SPOILERS.
> 
> So! Damian calls everyone by their last name because he doesn't have one. He also has abandonment issues. Joy.
> 
> I used to leave a question at the end of each chapter for people to comment on because reader/author interaction is the best! I thought I would start it back up again. So feel free to leave an answer in the comments!
> 
> Question of the week: Why do you think Damian ended up in Star City (aka: where did he come from)? Obviously, I can't tell you, but speculate below! You never know if you'll influence something later.


	4. Banks and Birds and Burglars, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two birds walk into a bank  
> Wait, I've already done this joke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I hope everyone's week went well. One of my sisters had a birthday which was fun. But I was also called into work every single day this week so less fun.
> 
> Anyway, the last chapter was a dive into Damian's head. This week we're going to look a bit into the "brotherly" aspect of things from the POV of the two eldest. While they are in a bank robbery.
> 
> Yeah, these boys really need to learn to avoid these things. Then again: it's Gotham.
> 
> Without further ado, let's begin.

Bruce was starting to worry about his little “Birds” from a few weeks back. Normally, finding someone in Gotham City for the Batman was as easy as snapping his fingers. But these four kids were being particularly difficult.

His first thought had been they must all be friends from elementary school, hence the multiple accents and the younger ages. It had been a late June evening with school only having just been released for the summer a few days previously. But the schools in the nearby area of the wharf had no students who matched the four’s description. At least, he did not think they did. His camera in his mask had allowed Bruce to get better lighting on the four boys, which had allowed a much easier time narrowing down results. But the shots were still not exact and there had been a few boys who looked _similar_ , but none of them had been in the same school together.

His next thought was adjacent school districts. The same issues had arisen. He had started to look at the school districts further into town. The boys could have taken a bus, after all.

And then a week or so after this particular development, he found a new theory. One that was much more frightening than a few misbehaving children.

Batman had been on patrol on practically the other side of town from the wharf when he spotted the gray little figure in the alleyway. Sure enough, it was Robin who had somehow picked up on his presence, several stories above him. And even more concerning was the boy’s situation. Several alarms had gone off in Bruce’s mind from child abuse to slavery. Part of him had wanted to grab the kid right there and drag him to the police station.

But Robin had not appeared injured nor frightened at the idea of being found by his “brothers”. If anything he seemed… pleased by the prospect. And that did not sit right with Batman’s theories so he had attempted to offer a help button (which had been refused) and “The Birds” became an official case file in the cave.

It was now July, almost a month past the first encounter with the boys. There had been no new leads since and the Birds had basically dropped off the map. If Bruce wanted answers, then he needed to find them. Preferably not during patrol.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have made his wish a little more specific.

* * *

Dick had had no intentions of being anywhere near a bank today but… Damian. Enough said.

It was almost noon and for once, Dick had allowed Tim to accompany him on the search with the meeting place being on Main Street at midday. The two had been walking down the street, eyes peeled for Jason or their little run-a-way when the armored truck came careening around the corner.

People screamed and leaped out of the way as the truck screeched to a halt in front of the bank and out came over a dozen armed men, with Two-Face in the rear, all armed to the teeth. Most of them headed for the bank, but five or six broke off from the main group. They marched over to the cowering civilians and forced them to their feet, herding them into a group.

Hostages.

Dick grabbed Tim and shoved him into a nearby alleyway. The two ducked behind a dumpster as a woman who had been trying to escape was grabbed. She screamed and a gunshot was fired into the air. Tim clung to Dick, burying his face into his older brothers’ jacket. All Dick could do was bite down on his lip.

_Don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream-_

Footsteps faded and the two sat in silence, praying. The two counted to one hundred before Dick peered around the corner. No one was there. The screams of horror had faded as the lucky ones escaped to a safe distance and the hostages were forced to be quiet.

Dick hesitated for a moment. He pushed Tim up and laid his hands on Tim’s shoulders. “Stay here.” He ordered. Dick got to his feet, but Tim grabbed his hand.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

Dick knelt back down to eye level, “Jason might be out there. Or Damian. I have to look. Stay here and don’t make a sound. If the situation gets worse, try and sneak down the alley to the other side of town and go home.” He squeezed Tim’s hand, “I’ll be fine.”

“They’ll see you!” Tim insisted.

Dick grinned, “Not unless they look up.” He double-checked the street way before sprinting deeper into the alley. He jumped up on a dumpster, then launched off of that and grasped the bottom rail of one of the fire escapes, pulling himself up to the second story. It only took a few seconds for him to scale the metal railing and make it to the roof.

It looked worse from up here. Men, women, and children alike were huddled in a bunch outside the bank entrance. Six men stood guard, all guns trained on the civilians as their buddies set off the burglar alarms. This operation had clearly been planned and was most likely aiming for time, not for stealth.

Although anybody with eyes could see that. For one, the sun was shining brightly above. 

Dick laid on his stomach and leaned over the side. His eyes scanned the crowd but found no red or gray hoodie. He had to admit it. Jason had been right about the sweatshirts; they made it easy for you to spot one another.

He really hated it when Jason was right.

Dick moved away from the main street and back to the alleys. The space between him and the next rooftop was long. Longer than he was used to. But if he wanted a closer look at the bank, he’d have to jump across.

Eh. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it in years. His parkour adventures around Gotham City the past four years had been the only way he could keep up his trapeze skills.

Dick backed up a few steps. Then he ran full sprint before leaping, before performing a quadruple somersault, and then spreading out his arms to the ledge. He managed to grab it, but only barely. He grasped at the brick ledge and swallowed down a yelp of surprise and pain as he slammed into the wall.

He was definitely going to have some bruises from that.

Alright, he was across. Now he just needed to pull himself up to safety. 

...as the brick was crumbling beneath his fingers.

Jason was going to kill him.

Dick tried to pull himself up, but the brick under his right hand decided now was a good time to break off the building. Which now meant Dick was dangling by one hand about five stories up. The brick clattered against the building before hitting the lid of a trash can, echoing loudly. Dick bit back a curse when only a few seconds later one of the guards out on the streets came around the corner and began to walk down the alley, gun drawn.

Dick’s left hand was starting to cramp and that brick had also decided it wanted to join its friend on the ground. But, if he tried to grab the ledge, the gunman would surely hear him. But if he didn’t grab the ledge, he would slip and most likely die. At least break his spine.

Jason was _definitely_ going to kill him.

The brick started to lean out and Dick made up his mind. He heaved with all his strength upward, pulling with his left and flinging his right hand up and around, yanking himself up and over the ledge. His left hand slipped, shoving the brick off the building and down below, missing the gunman by only a few feet. The guard let out a surprised shout, followed shortly by a gun going off. It hit the brick on the wall and Dick pulled himself away from the ledge. So much for stealth.

“I got a kid over here!”

 _Please be talking about him and not Tim._ Dick got to his feet and screeching metal alerted him to the henchman pulling down the ladder to the fire escape.

Of course, Dick picked the one roof with only an air conditioning unit as cover. That would last about three seconds. He’d have to jump again. He sprinted across the roof, pulling up short of the ledge. The bank was on the other side and the gap between was even further than the first one, by about ten feet.

… Yeah, Dick was not going to even try to do that.

He’d use the fire escape on the other side then. Dick tried his weight and found the structure much too loose to his liking. There were several bolts missing and one of the ladders had actually broken off of its mainframe. “Note to self:” he mumbled to no one, “When I get out of this, call the building inspector. This is a serious safety code violation.”

_‘If I get out of this…’_

The goon’s footsteps and stumbling got louder and Dick quickly ducked out of sight behind the AC unit. Better some cover than none.

Billy, “the Dud”, as his friends called him, came up onto the roof, ready to shoot. To his surprise, no one was in sight. Where’d the kid go? He moved across the roof to see if the kid had climbed down on the opposite side of the building. His efforts were rewarded by a swift kick in the shins as the kid tried to sweep the man’s feet out from under him.

He yelped and lost hold of his weapon for a moment, as he bent over, grabbed his legs, and cried out in pain. The kid ignored him and ran towards the fire escape Billy had just climbed up. Billy growled, grabbed his gun, and pointed it in the general direction of the kid. “Stop! Or I’ll-”

Later, Dick would describe the experience of his younger brothers. He would claim that a black shape would suddenly drop from the sky and land on the idiot of a man. The figure then knocked the man out with a swift punch to the face, before straightening up.

“Are you alright, Wing?”

Dick was surprised at the name. Batman remembered them? Weird. He forced himself to nod and tried not to think about what might have happened if Batman had come a few seconds too late.

Batman walked forward until he was only a few feet away from Dick, then crouched down to eye level, his white slits narrowing slightly. “Are you sure?”

Dick forced himself to answer verbally this time. “Yes, sir. _Thank you,_ sir.”

Batman gave a small nod, before standing up to full height. Dick took the opportunity to get a closer look at the costume. Sure, he had seen it before, but it had been kind of dark. Long black cape, the yellow belt of tricks, and the symbol that sent fear through criminals and hope through the innocent.

His thoughts were snapped back to the present as Batman turned around, his cape barely missing Dick’s face. “Come.”

Dick looked down at the streets and decided it would be best for his health to stick with the vigilante. “Where are we going?”

Batman didn’t answer but pulled out his famous grapple gun. He shot a wire to the side of the bank and offered an arm to Dick. He gladly took it and they were suddenly _flying_ through the air. Dick almost laughed aloud, the feeling all too familiar, but the flight ended too quickly and he found himself sitting atop the bank. Batman grabbed a hold of the large grate and pulled off the cover with practiced ease. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

Dick looked down at the height between him and the ground. He debated for a brief moment about climbing down, then thought better of it. “Yes, sir.” But before Batman could enter, he suddenly realized. “Oh! I was looking for Jay Bird and Robin. Crow is about two buildings over, hiding in an alley.”

“Crow is safe.” That was all Batman said, but Dick saw no reason not to believe him. Then he disappeared into the building leaving Dick to the birds and the view.

Gotham was prettier at night.

* * *

Jason couldn’t recall if Damian had ever hidden in a building before. But apparently, he did. He had always assumed it was just the streets, but it made sense. Buildings had air conditioning and heat. Why would anyone stay on the streets at all times, if they could help it?

Of course, that didn’t mean he was enjoying it right now. Jason had been waiting to meet up with Dick and Tim outside the Gotham Central Bank when he spotted a familiar gray hood duck through the big glass doors. He sighed in annoyance before heading up the stairs.

Jason had always hated interacting with other people. Maybe it was just because he looked like a street kid or maybe it was because the rich were snobs but most conversations ended with the two individuals parting with verbal curses of the other’s existence. 

On the bright side, the rest of his day wouldn’t be spent looking for the little rascal. He entered, avoided the security guard with relative ease, and found Damian chatting with a young woman around the age of twenty. She was laughing and Damian was _giggling_ and Jason was growling.

“-love it when you stop by! Always makes my day!”

“I was in the neighborhood and thought, why not?” Damian flashed an innocent smile.

Jason approached the two and loudly cleared his throat. The two glanced over and the flash of annoyance was clear on Damian’s face, but it quickly passed. “Miss Jess, this is my brother, Jay.”

Jason nodded respectfully, but his gaze was fixed on Damian, a question in his eyes. _‘Who’s she?’_

Damian shrugged carelessly, _‘No one of importance. But she is useful.’_

Jess laughed with joy, “You never told me you had a brother, Robby!”

“He’s pretty shy.” Damian told him, “Mother must have sent him to take me back to the group.” He raised an eyebrow, _‘Wing with you?’_

Jason put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head slightly to the right. _‘Soon.’_ He brushed the floor with his right foot. _‘Time to go.’_

Damian turned back to Jess, “Sorry, I have to go.”

Jess frowned but nodded understanding. “Of course. Oh! Almost forgot.” She reached into the cup of lollipops beside her and handed Damian a bright green one. “You’re lucky. That was my last apple.”

“Thank you, Miss Jess.”

Jason raised both eyebrows, _‘Seriously?’_

Damian pulled the wrapper off and popped it into his mouth. _‘What? They’re really good and you know how Wing is about buying unnecessary sugar.’_

Jason would have retorted, but Jess held out her mug of treats to him and smiled, “Would you like one too, Jay?”

Jason hesitated, then shrugged. “Why not? Thank you, Miss.” He plucked a red one out and pocketed it. “Come one, Robby.”

“Goodbye, Miss Jess!”

“Anytime, Robby!”

As soon as the two were out of earshot Jason said, “Suckers? You ran away for suckers?”

“First of all,” the arrogant tone was back and Jason had to resist rolling his eyes, “They are lollipops. There is a difference.”

“Whatever.”

“Second of all,” Damian motioned back at the clerk, “Jessica is the only person I tolerate in this establishment. The only reason I put up with any of these people is because of this apple-flavored treat.”

“So…” Jason smirked, “You ran away for lollipops.”

“Shut up, Todd.”

Jason had a good comeback lined up and was ready to swing when the men with guns burst in. Five shots rang out and people screamed, throwing themselves to the ground. Jason was no exception, dragging Damian down with him and making sure the kid was at least partially shielded by his body. He knew he’d get yelled at by him at a later point, but Jason would rather deal with Damian’s wrath than Dick’s.

“Nobody move!” a man stepped forward, which Jason identified as the man in charge. _Two-Face._ He looked even more disturbing in person.

His men spread out, pulling women from their husbands and children from the women, holding them at gunpoint. One of the men came over to Jason and Damian. Jason lunged at him, his street reflexes kicking into high gear. He managed to get the man to drop the gun by punching him in the nose and had just stolen his knife, but the sound of a gun cocking from behind made him freeze up.

Damian had been snatched from behind and currently had a gun pressed to his temple. The man holding him hostage smiled at Jason, before motioning with the gun for him to put down the knife.

Dick was going to kill him.

Jason dropped the knife, which clattered on the floor. The guy he had punched now had blood pouring freely from his now broken nose and Jason found himself forced to his hands and knees, eyes facing the floor with a gun pressed against his neck. Damian was pulled away to the center of the room with the rest of the hostages, spitting out curses and other insults that Jason knew Dick wouldn’t have approved of.

Dick was _definitely_ going to kill him.

Jason gritted his teeth. He hated feeling useless. But all he could do was watch as the bank robbers broke into the vault and began moving money from the vault to the truck. His “personal guard” had relaxed enough by now that Jason chanced a look around to watch the action. His timing was perfect because he looked up just in time to see Batman sneak out of an air duct in the high ceiling, dropping onto one of the gargoyles in the corner.

Batman’s eyes scanned the floor, assessing the situation. Jason thought he might have stiffened when he made eye contact with him. Batman’s hand flicked down slightly and Jason got the message, quickly looking away.

Instead, he looked at Damian, who was looking at him. Although he looked calm, Jason could guess the storm of emotions underneath. He gave a slight nod to him, winked twice with his right eye, then scrunched his face.

Damian raised his left eyebrow, _‘That’s the plan? Seriously?’_

Jason flicked his eyes up to the ceiling. Damian casually twisted his head to the side and briefly followed his gaze. It was enough.

Damian’s eyes glazed over, he swayed on his feet for a moment or two. He let out a moan and dropped like a dead weight back onto his guard.

Said guard accidentally pulled the trigger at the sudden weight that fell against his legs and stomach. Luckily, the gun had not been pressed against anyone's head. He cursed and pointed his still smoking gun at Damian, cursing him.

Jason cried out, “Don’t shoot him, please! He’s my brother! He’s having a seizure!” His shout startled his captor, who loosened his grip on the kid. Damian then dropped to the ground, grabbing his head and moaning again, this one a little louder. The distraction allowed Jason to slip free from his own startled captor and run over. He kneeled down beside Damian and tried to play the part of the panicked family member. It really wasn’t that hard. “Robby, can you hear me?”

Damian began to convulse, his body twitching rapidly and his breathing becoming choppy. Jason looked around at the guards, “Is there a doctor here? Please! He could die!” Hopefully, there was not a doctor. The last thing Jason wanted was to have some stranger call them out on play acting a seizure in the middle of a robbery.

“Oh my gosh!” a woman cried in terror from somewhere in the back. A guard yelled at her to shut up, but his buddy looked a little worried.

“What do we do? Like, this wasn’t supposed to involve anyone dying.”

Two-Face wandered out of the vault, clearly frustrated at the delay by sputtering curses and insults. “What is _going_ on?”

“Sorry, boss. Kids having a seizure.” The guard who had accidentally fired shifted his feet nervously. 

Jason was sweeping his eyes around the room as if desperately pleading for help. Most people looked away, their fear overpowering their concern. In reality, he was watching, albeit out of the corner of his eye most of the time, as Batman swooped down silently and knocked out guards. Most of them he hung from the rafters to keep them from being spotted or found, but a few were left on the ground. He counted five… six… seven…

Two-Face growled, marching over to where Damian and Jason were. Jason quickly bent his head down, partially to avoid looking at the scarred face and partially to play the part of the concerned brother. “Please… he needs a doctor. Can’t someone call an ambulance?”

Two-Face bent down closer and Damian suddenly thrashed his arms at the villain. Jason bit his lip to keep from scolding the kid. They wanted to distract him, not get killed!

Two-Face pulled out his gun and his famous coin, mumbling to himself. “This is a pathetic waste of time. Let’s just shoot the kid and get on with it.” His voice suddenly flipped to a kinder, but still harsh tone, “It’s not his fault he’s this way. The job is almost done anyway. Let’s just move on.” The rougher voice was back, “There’s only one fair way to decide.”

Jason swallowed hard. He pulled Damian into his arms and leaned down so his mouth was against his ear, “Hey, wrap it up. He’s gonna shoot you.”

Almost immediately, Damian’s twitching and convulsing started to slow and become less violent. His moaning turned into mumbles and he fluttered his eyes as if “waking up”.

Two-Face fingered his coin for a moment before tossing it into the air.

Jason felt, rather than saw what was about to happen next. He dropped himself flat on the floor as Batman crashed down, punching Two-Face square in the jaw and then disarmed the two remaining guards. The fight was short, but Jason swore he heard a few bones crunch or at least crack under the pressure of Batman’s blows.

One moment there had been a bank full of conscious robbers, now there wasn’t. Batman straightened up and turned to the nearest security guard, “Make sure no one leaves this building. There are still some men outside that I need to deal with.”

The guard nodded, eyes wide with awe.

“What took you so long?” Damian demanded, his tone harsh. He was now sitting up on the floor and glaring at the Bat. “He was going to shoot me!”

Jason glanced over at the dropped coin. “According to the coin, he actually wasn’t.”

“You are not helping!” Damian snapped.

Batman sighed and Jason had the impression that he might have been rolling his eyes. He bent down and picked up Damian, then motioned for Jason to follow him. Jason bit back a groan but didn’t really have a choice. Batman had his kid brother.

Once out of earshot of the hostage group, he turned towards Jason, but his eyes were on the boy in his arms. “Are you alright, Robin?”

Damian looked annoyed at the question. “Of course I’m okay! Put me down!”

“Rob, he’s checking on your seizure,” Jason quickly jumped in. “And normally he is fine-- but maybe you want to get us out of here and take us to the hospital? It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Batman gave Jason a look that clearly said, _“I don’t believe you.”_

Damian was not helping the situation, his own angry glare being shot at the older boy. Eh. Can’t say Jason didn’t try.

Batman sighed and put Damian down. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes most likely closed. “I assume you would both like to be out of this building when the police arrive?”

Jason hesitated a moment. Well, they had already dug themselves into this grave. Might as well lie in it. “Yes, sir.”

“Any reason why?”

Neither boy chose to answer, avoiding the gaze of the towering man. The vigilante sighed loudly. “Very well. Grab hold of me.”

Uh… okay then. Jason wasn’t expecting that. But, he did as he was told, for once in his life without complaint. Damian followed likewise, the two of them wrapping their arms around his neck. The grappling hook flew up to the air duct he came in through and he motioned for them to climb off and in. “Wing is waiting outside. I will fetch all of you when the coast is clear. For now, stay quiet and stay put.”

Damian climbed in first and Jason followed shortly after. The duct was dusty and very stuffy, but Jason made a note to look into air ducts more carefully in the future. They might be useful entry points for his… nightly tours of rich people’s homes.

* * *

When Gordon pulled up to the bank, he found fourteen men handcuffed and tied together, along with Two-Face who was gagged and glaring daggers at him. He motioned for the policemen to read them their rights before approaching the head security officer.

“Where’s Batman?”

To his surprise, the man shrugged. “Don’t know. He left a few minutes ago with some kids.”

Kids? “Any reason why?”

“They were in the bank when it was robbed. One of them… well, I think he had some sort of seizure, but he seemed fine after Batman arrived. The other kid was his brother.”

“And he just… left? You didn’t even ask where he went?”

The guard shrugged, “He’s the freakin’ Bat. You try and keep him around.”

Gordon had to give the man that. “Alright, everyone. Get to work.” Statements needed to be collected, security footage recovered and willing witnesses found.

It was almost an hour later when Batman returned. He didn’t stay long but explained he had taken the two boys to a nearby clinic for a medical evaluation, despite his apparent recovery.

“Were the parents called?”

Batman didn’t respond immediately. “I left the boys with proper help. I didn’t remain for the evaluation.”

“Then what took so long?”

With a completely straight face, Batman replied with a single word. “Traffic.” Then he pulled out his grapple hook and headed into the sky leaving a very annoyed and confused Commissioner behind.

* * *

_Casefile: The Birds_

_Suspects:_ _  
_ _“_ _Nightwing_ _ ” _ _  
_ _“_ _Jay Bird_ _”_ _  
_ _“_ _Crow_ _”_ _  
_ _“_ _Robin_ _”_

_Status: In progress_

_Opened: June 19th 20XX:_

_Closed: N/A_

_Reports:_ _  
__June 19th-_ _The Wharf_ _  
__June 27th- (Robin)_ _Jefferson and Phelps Alleyway_ _  
__July 13th-_ _Two-Face Bank Robbery_ _  
_ **_→open report←_**

_Two-Face_ _attempted a daylight robbery on one of the northern Gotham City Banks. I found_ _Crow_ _in a nearby alleyway. He gave a steady report of what he had seen and explained_ _Nightwing_ _had climbed on the roof to look for the other two birds. I told Crow to retreat back down the alley and stand by my car. Nightwing was being attacked by one of the robbers. I engaged the robber and incapacitated him. Nightwing was then moved to the roof of Gotham City Bank North._ _Jay Bird_ _and_ _Robin_ _were inside the bank, both being held as hostages. Robin appeared to have a seizure, but on closer inspection the incident was play acting. After the robbers and Two-Face were incapacitated I removed all three from the scene. Crow was waiting for us by the Batmobile. All four politely thanked me and ran off to the nearby park. They remained there for over an hour. Unable to remain in contact due to the bank robbery (_ _full report_ _)_

 _Unsure of what kind of situation these “Birds” are in. All evidence indicates simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Beginning to suspect the four are informants for someone or something. Will continue to keep an eye out for them on patrol and investigating possible motives and connections._ _  
_ **_→end report←_**

 _Known affiliates:_ **_N/A_ **

_Attached Evidence:_ _  
_ _Security Footage_ _, June 19th, Wayne Ent. Property, Gotham Wharf_ _  
_ _Security Footage_ _, July 13th, Gotham City Bank_ _  
  
_

_Attached Files and Reports:_ _  
_ **_N/A_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, if there are any typos or things you think could be improved upon, please let me know!
> 
> Also: I am so freaking proud of myself for that casefile. It was a last-minute edition that I worked on this week. Y'all, I can't even explain why but simply put: "Character Insight/Development"
> 
> Come yell at me over on Tumblr (@Oceanera12). I love to share the creative process and will answer any questions the best I can.
> 
> Weekly question: Who is “your” Robin? (the Robin that has impacted you the most, is your favorite, the one that when someone says “Robin” comes to mind first, you get the idea) Comment below! "My Robin" is probably... um... I'll say Dick, but he is not my favorite Robin weirdly enough. But he's the original and the one I grew up watching on tv so yeah (kind of like how "my Doctor" is the Ninth but my favorite is Ten)


	5. Feed the Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feed the Birds  
> Tuppence a bag  
> (Or at the very least, a con a bag)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yellow everyone! Hope you all had a good week. Mine's been alright. I have been working on future Bird stories which has been fun but is kind of hard. Tim is being particularly difficult to find the main plotline for... eh, I've got a lot of time so I am not really stressed about it.
> 
> I loved reading about everyone's Robins! There were votes for every single one of the boys and several people chimed in with their favorite Robins... and I realized I didn't share my favorite Robin. I honestly have phases on who is my favorite boy (no offense to Stephanie, but she's a better Spoiler) but it usually tosses between Jason and Tim. I love Damian for his potential (that the comics continue to fail at fulfilling) and Dick is just a Sunshine child and I love him for it.
> 
> Anyway, a few clarifying points of The Bird's world before I start this chapter off:
> 
> 1\. Drake Industries does not exist in this world. Tim was born into old money, but it was like the "lower class" of the "upper class", if that makes sense. So Jack Drake had a good job that made quite a bit of money (let's say a lawyer or something), but there was never a Drake Industries.
> 
> 2\. Bruce has been Batman for about five years in this story. Of those five years, Batman has only been known to the public for two of them. The police has known about him for three. At this point, everyone who lives in Gotham knows he exists and a lot of people have seen him. But a lot of other places outside of Gotham think Batman is just a myth or just some kind of weird conspiracy the city of Gotham keeps up.
> 
> 3\. Batman is an "unofficial" Justice League member at this moment in time. He's known Superman for about two years now and the two of them are on a friendly basis. They trust each other enough, but Bruce is not quite ready to fully commit to the Justice League/give up his "mythos" status outside of Gotham. So Batman is called in for emergency situations, but he's still pretty in the background.
> 
> I think that's all at the moment so let's a go!

After their second encounter with the bat, Dick had decided it would be best if no one left the apartment for a week or so. No one argued against it. After all, if Roman was questioned about his “loose rules”, and lost the right to be their “guardian”, then all four of their lives would get infinitely worse. First off, they would most likely be split up. Adding to that fact: the probability of getting put somewhere much worse than “negligent guardian” was way too high, especially in Gotham.

The bank had been a close call. By some miracle, they had convinced Batman to drop them off across town, where the four had spent the rest of the day at the park. They returned home around nine that night, making sure the Dark Knight was not following them.

Since then, no one had left the apartment. The four of them sat in their room, looked through their few books, played some (quiet) games, ate their meager food, and busted out Jason’s emergency rations. It was boring, it was long, and it was necessary.

But they were also four boys, locked in a room, with nothing to do. Dick was surprised they lasted as long as they did. After a week, they were all ready to get out of the apartment. So they cautiously ventured out into daytime Gotham, with plans to return by seven pm. No need to take chances with running into the Bat again. Twice was more than enough for their lives.

Dick’s only regret was that Tim’s birthday was spent inside. He was proud of himself for getting Tim’s gift early, which was an old detective kit from the local thrift store. The magnifying glass was cracked and the finger dust powder was missing but Tim had loved it anyway.

Jason had given Tim an old pocket knife he insisted he paid for. (Jason had confided in Dick that on one of his nightly outings some drunk guy had attacked him with the knife and he had just taken it, after knocking the mugger out with his trusty pipe. After Dick had given him a two- minute lecture on safety, he gave him permission to give it to Tim) Despite the fact it was only a knife and had none of the “fun” add-ons, Tim immediately shoved the thing into his pocket and refused to let anyone touch it.

The only person to actually leave the apartment (without telling anyone and at night) had been Damian, who had vanished for six hours only to come back with an old empty flash drive. He refused to tell anyone where he acquired it, no matter how much Dick pestered him. Tim loved it and Damian had claimed the honor of “best present”. (During the years Damian lived alone with Roman, he had befriended several people in the nearby neighborhood, including the owner of a used computer shop. The shop was originally a block from Romans, but had relocated to the other side of town, which meant Damian had to walk almost three hours to get there as he could not afford bus fare if he wanted to have money for the hard drive).

Now, a few days after the “celebration” the boys were currently heading back to Roman’s after their first day back in the town. It was also a day of making sure Jason didn’t get caught pickpocketing anyone, Tim didn’t hack anything too important, and Damian didn’t run off into the crowd. 

Dick sighed and glanced at the setting sun. Dusk had settled on Gotham and he estimated that they would reach home just before full dark. He’d wait until midnight before sneaking out. After the last few weeks, he needed to feel the wind in his hair and watch the ground far beneath him.

They were about three blocks away from Roman’s apartment when they came across the party. Jason whistled at the cars that pulled to a stop in front of the old town hall. “Woah. Brucie must be celebrating something big tonight.”

“Not Mr. Wayne,” Tim corrected, “Miss Veronica Vreeland. She’s throwing a charity ball to raise money for wells in Africa.”

“Well,” Jason rolled his eyes, “Isn’t that nice?”

Dick punched his shoulder, “At least it isn’t for some political tycoon.”

As they drew closer, the strong aroma of freshly baked pastries and grilled meat came wafting in the wind. Dick tried to ignore them, reminding himself that Roman would have some Uncrustables waiting for them outside their door at the apartment. He frowned at the thought. At least they were fed something…

Beside him, Damian’s stomach growled loudly. Tim, Jason, and Dick all looked at him simultaneously and he grinned, a little sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Jason smirked, “Me too, Robin. Me too.”

Tim looked longingly at the party, “Too bad we weren’t invited.”

“Who would invite us?” Jason snorted.

Dick’s stomach growled this time.

Jason threw his hands in the air. “That’s it. Come on, Robin. I need that innocent face of yours.”

Damian followed Jason down the street without protest. Tim frowned and went to follow, but Dick grabbed his wrist. “Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Tim looked confused. It was only then Dick remembered Tim hadn’t been around when they pulled this “con” (as Jason insisted on calling it) before.

He pointed at the party, “Alright, so generally at the elite parties there is a buffet table that anyone can eat off. This includes the security, as long as they are on break or in the room with the table.”

“Okay…?” Tim raised an eyebrow.

Dick pointed at the distant figures of Jason and Damian who were standing on the street corner down the road from the party. “As you know, Damian can act like an angel when he wants to. He’s the first one to approach.”

Tim nodded, still clearly confused.

“Jason comes in next since he is the second youngest… well, he _was_.” Dick playfully nudged Tim who let out a soft giggle. Dick spoke aloud, partially to himself and partially to Tim. “We’ll have to teach you how to do this another day… but for now, follow my lead.”

Damian split off from Jason, sprinting down the street towards the party. Jason waited about ten seconds before following, not quite at a full sprint but faster than a jog. Tim frowned and pointed at the scene. “What are they doing now?”

“Well,” Dick pointed at Damian, “he makes the first contact. Jason is right behind him- that will be you next time- and then I, well we, approach in about two minutes.”

“But what are we doing?” Tim asked, still clearly confused.

Dick chuckled, “Getting free food. What else?”

* * *

Antonio was bored. Very bored. He saw most of the elite class as snobs, and most activities they did proved that claim. Unfortunately, the elite were also the people who paid him so he bit his tongue and held back any insults that popped into his mind.

And of course, he had been assigned on gate duty, the most boring part of the job. You smiled and greeted everyone at the party. They smiled and gave a polite response before vanishing inside, leaving you to another smile and greeting. His face was starting to hurt from the smile.

Another celebrity couple pulled up and he gave a polite nod, “Thank you for coming.”

“It’s our pleasure.” The man, who Antonio thought might have been from a movie he saw a year ago, said. The woman giggled and the two walked past his left shoulder never to see him again.

He was counting down the moments to his break when the boy suddenly appeared.

He looked to be between six and eight years old, with short black hair and emerald green eyes. He was wearing jeans and a gray pullover that looked like hand-me-downs. He was giggling to himself and was panting, obviously having just been running. He looked up at Antonio and smiled, a little shy, “Excuse me? Sir?”

Antonio nodded.

“Would it be alright for me to hide behind you? I’m playing hide and seek with my brothers.”

Antonio frowned. To be honest, he wasn’t sure if that was a violation of security. True, the boy didn’t want to enter the party, but what would the guests think if they pulled up and a small child was standing behind him? Also, who played hide and seek in the streets of Gotham? The city wasn’t his hometown, but he was pretty sure the streets were not considered “safe”. Before he could make up his mind, a different boy, also with black hair rammed into the younger one. He blinked as if shocked and then dropped down next to the boy. “Oh, geez. Sorry, Rob. But you can’t run off like that!”

The younger glared at his older brother. “Seriously?”

Antonio chuckled. “Looks like you’ve been found. Sorry, kid.”

Gray hoodie got this pout on his face. “I wouldn’t have stopped if I knew you wouldn’t help me.”

“Aw, now that ain’t nice, Rob.” The other boy said. “Apologize to the nice man.”

“He’s not nice! He got me caught!” To Antonio’s horror, tears were forming in the child’s eyes.

Antonio quickly reassured the boy, “I’m sorry, Rob, was it? I didn’t mean to upset you!”

The red jacket kid patted Rob’s head, “Come on, don’t cry.”

“What’s going on, Jay?”

Antonio looked to his right and found two more boys, also with black hair. The taller one was the one who had spoken. The shorter one was looking at the scene, clearly in shock about… something. He was looking at the crying younger brother like he didn’t know who he was, which threw Antonio for a second.

The now established Jay threw his hands in the air, “Little Robby here was trying to hide behind the security guard but didn’t hide in time. Now he’s upset he got caught, even though we told him playtime was over. Mom and Dad are not going to be happy...” Jay abandoned his little brother and went to the others. “What do you suggest, Wyn?”

Wyn patted Jay’s arm and crouched down next to Robby. “Now, baby bird, you’re just hungry. When we get home we’ll have dinner, okay?”

Antonio thought he saw a flash of anger cross Rob’s face, but he blinked and he was back to sad. Must have been a trick of the light. 

“But that’s over an hour away!” Rob wailed.

Antonio glanced at his watch. It was almost seven o’clock. These kids didn’t eat until eight? No wonder Rob was cranky.

The other brother frowned, “What are you talking about? We’re only-OW!” Jay had elbowed him in the ribs hard and was giving him a glare.

Antonio raised an eyebrow. Jay noticed the look and shrugged, “We’re only a block from our bus-stop but we still have an hour ride across town to get home. Little… Crowley here always forgets the bus isn’t home.”

Crowley looked at his brother very confused and Jay just nodded. “Well, Wyn, I think we should get going.”

“I’m hungry!” Robby moaned.

Wyn swung his backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it. “Uh… how about a granola bar?”

“No!”

“That’s all I got.”

“I want _real_ food!”

Antonio watched the situation with sympathy. He had been the older brother to a little sister and knew how that bus ride was going to be. Long and very loud with shrieks and crying.

Wyn shook his head, “Maybe Mommy and Daddy will have food at the bus stop.”

“I want food _now_!”

“Robby…”

Antonio finally spoke up, unable to bear Robby’s tears any longer. “I could get you some food from inside!”

Wyn looked up, surprised. “That’s very kind of you, sir, but we don’t want to trouble you-”

“No trouble,” Antonio insisted. “My bosses told us we could take whatever we wanted. I can ask one of my friends inside to bring a small bag to hold you all over until you get home.”

Robby stopped crying and looked up from the ground with wide bright eyes. “Really?”

Wyn hesitated, “Well… it would keep the baby bird from chirping _too_ much…” 

Rob shot a withering glare from the side, but Antonio didn’t notice.

Wyn looked up at Antonio and gave a small smile, “That would be really appreciative, sir. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, honest.”

* * *

Alfred pulled up to the old town hall and got out of the car. He made his way around the front to the passenger side and found a strange sight.

Four boys aged between eight and twelve were leaning against the far wall, chatting with the gate guard. They were not dressed for the charity ball, all wearing jeans and jackets, despite the summer weather. Their hoods were down showing bright faces and smiles.

He managed not to stare too long and opened the door for Master Bruce and his date, Miss Lacy, a ballerina from a visiting ballet troupe that was currently in Gotham. Personally, Alfred found her nice, but rather dull-witted, which made her a perfect date for Master Bruce.

Miss Lacy smiled at the butler and thanked him.

Bruce got out of the car and thanked Alfred as well before his eyes landed on the four boys and his smile froze in place. Even with the hoods down, he’d recognize them from anywhere. His slippery Birds were sitting right in front of him at the Charity ball he had been dreading for the past month. What an interesting surprise.

He confirmed positives on eye colors (green for Robin and Jay Bird, blue for Wing and Crow) along with hair colors (all had black hair of varying lengths).

The boys and the guard had been discussing Gotham City when they arrived with the guard complaining about the weather. “It’s always so… dreary.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Jay asked, a smirk on his face.

The guard shook his head, “Lucky for me. I’m from Metropolis.”

Crow and Robin snorted. Jay rolled his eyes. Wing picked up the conversation, “You ever see Superman?”

“A few times. Almost always in the air and always a fast blur. I saw him during one of the rallies they have once a month, giving Superman the Key to the City or whatever award it was.”

Bruce had to hide a smile. Clark had once told him he had so many Keys to the City of Metropolis that he might as well be their locksmith. This was one of the many advantages of being Batman. No ridiculous ceremonies he had to appear at and give speeches for. He had enough of that as Bruce Wayne.

The guard finally noticed Bruce and his date, quickly straightening up. “Sorry, Mister…?”

“Wayne. Bruce Wayne.”

Crow’s eyes widened and he grabbed Wing’s hand, whispering something very quickly that Bruce was unable to make out. His other hand went to the hood on his back, as if to pull it up. Wing stopped him with a smile and gentle pat on his shoulder.

Bruce made a note of the interaction but made a show of introducing his date. “This is Miss Lacy.”

Lacy gave a smile and a wave.

“Mr. Wayne!” The guard’s blood drained out of his face. Of course, he knew who Bruce Wayne was, Metropolis boy or not. “I am so sorry, I was just-”

“It’s fine… Antonio.” Bruce read the nametag on the man’s suit. “Pleased to make your acquaintances. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and I can actually say I have met Superman.”

Antonio perked up slightly, “That is hardly a surprise, Mr. Wayne. A man of your situation must have many problems a superhero becomes involved with.”

Before Bruce could respond, Crow piped up, his voice clearly defensive. “I’m sure Mr. Wayne calls Batman before he calls Superman.”

Robin nodded eagerly, “That’s right. I’m sure Mr. Wayne calls the Dark Knight more often than the Man of Steel.”

Antonio frowned, “I thought Batman was just an urban legend.”

Jay snorted. “Not even close.”

“Well, has anyone ever seen him?”

“All the time!” Robin perked up, “We’ve seen him.”

Antonio smiled but clearly didn’t believe them. “Have you now?”

Robin was starting to look angry and Jay wasn’t far behind, prompting Bruce to step in. “I can assure you, Antonio, Batman is very real. These boys are right. My first call has always been to Gotham’s protector. My acquaintance to the Man of Steel was actually through the Dark Knight.”

Antonio looked chastened and quickly apologized to the boys.

A different guard arrived from the building, holding a large paper bag. His nametag read _Rick_ and he looked a little confused. “Here you are, Antonio. What ya need all this food for, anyway?”

Antonio thanked his friend then handed the bag to Robin. “There you are, baby bird. That should tide you over until dinner, don’t you think?”

Robin’s eyes flashed with anger, but a large smile was all Antonio noticed. He opened the bag and his eyes grew wide in surprise, “Are those _cupcakes_?”

Wing stepped in quickly, “Thanks, Antonio. We’d best be going.”

“Oh, gee.” Antonio looked up at the fading sky, “It’s kind of late to be walking alone. Perhaps you should wait until I get my break and I can walk you down there.”

Jay stepped in, “That’s kind of you, but our parents are expecting us. Thanks anyway!”

The four began to walk down the road and Antonio tried one more time, “Are you sure? It really wouldn’t be any trouble and I’d hate for something to happen to you!”

“We’re good! We have the Dark Knight, remember?” Robin called over his shoulder. Then all four tore off running down the street.

Lacy pulled at Bruce’s arm, “Shouldn’t we get to the party, Brucie?”

Bruce had learned not to wince at the nickname and instead threw her a dashing smile, “Of course, Lacy.” He made a show of patting his pockets and groaned, smacking his face. “Aww, darling, I forgot my checkbook at the mansion. I was supposed to write a check from Wayne Enterprises.”

“Oh,” Lacy looked worried, “What will you do?”

“I suppose I’ll just have to go get it.” Bruce pushed her towards the ball, “But that’s no reason for you to not go in now. I won’t be longer than thirty minutes.”

“Are you sure, Brucie?” Lacy cocked her head to the side.

“I’m sure. I’ll be right back.” Bruce climbed back in the car and Alfred got back in the driver’s seat. 

After the doors shut, Alfred looked in the rearview mirror. “After the boys, sir?”

“Of course, Alfred.”

They pulled away from the sidewalk and started down the road. Alfred turned left and slowed as they caught sight of the four of them down the street.

To both of their surprise, the boys were only a few blocks away from what appeared to be their destination. The four turned into an alleyway then climbed up a fire escape and through a window, which light flickered on a short time later.

Alfred and Bruce sat there for another ten minutes before Alfred asked gently, “Have you seen enough, sir?”

Bruce nodded and the two returned to the now extremely dull party. 

Bruce had his lead.

* * *

The following week, Bruce Wayne came up from the cave around four in the morning and collapsed on the nearest couch clearly exhausted. Alfred found him two hours later and let him sleep until eleven before walking him up for a proper meal.

Bruce picked at his brunch of pancakes and eggs, blinking the blurriness out of his eyes before finally taking a bite.

Alfred approached with a pot of coffee, a little concerned. “Master Bruce, are you sure you are feeling well? You seem distracted.” He poured some of the brown beverage into a red mug, then placed it on the table. “Perhaps you should cancel your meetings for the day.”

Bruce gave a small smile, “Sorry, Alfred. I just…” he sighed, gently stirring the coffee around. “I can't seem to get the Birds out of my mind.”

Alfred’s concern disappeared. “Well, Master Bruce, perhaps it is because you have been studying them for the last month.”

Bruce took a sip of his drink before responding. “There’s something about them, Alfred. I can’t explain it.”

Once he traced the address the Birds had fled to, he had been able to finally get proper names. And once he had names it had been all too easy to find the information he was looking for. 

It had been a bit of a surprise to find they were all orphans, all in the care of a single guardian. Roman James had no previous criminal history, but his father had been arrested when Roman was sixteen for armed robbery. Roman had been married, only for his wife to file for divorce six months later. His sister, May, was _conveniently_ the social worker assigned to all four of the children. A little too convenient for Bruce’s liking, although no evidence indicated Roman was abusive- at least none so far.

Bruce wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or worried by that fact.

“Jay Bird” or Jason Todd was the son of an alcoholic gang member and an addict mother. According to a newspaper article published six years ago, his father had been arrested and incarcerated by the police, sentenced to thirty years on charges of robbery, assault, and resisting arrest. He was still there, as far as Bruce knew. The next article Bruce’s research produced was an obituary for his mother, dated two years after Jason’s father’s arrest. The police report of the incident provided the cause of death (drug overdose) and that eight-year-old Jason had been the one to find his mother on the bathroom floor dead a few hours after the time of death. After two weeks in a boy's home, Jason was sent to Roman’s home, where Damian already had been for the past two years.

According to the social services database, Damian, or “Robin”, had no second name. He had simply been left on some church steps in Star City when he was around what the doctors estimated to be two years old with a note that simply said, _“His name is Damian”_. No known living family. May James had been assigned his case and she had quickly sent him to her brother with little questions asked. He lived alone with Roman for two years. Bruce didn’t even want to think about what might have happened in that time.

Timothy Drake aka “Crow” was the most familiar name to Bruce. The Drakes had been a member of the elite class in Gotham (albeit a bit lower than Bruce was for “proper” interactions) and he remembered reading the tragic story in the newspaper only a year ago. Mrs. Drake died when Tim was three from cancer. Mr. Drake had refused to remarry and had taken upon himself to raise the boy to the best of his abilities. Tim had done well for not having a mother and the family was a happy one. Only five years after his mother’s death, Timothy had been playing at a friend's house for the evening. His father had needed to do some work at home and Tim had been sent away as to not distract him. When his father did not show up on the agreed-upon time, Tim had gotten a ride home only to find his father dead. Shot by a robber, who had also stolen most of the valuables in the house. No family member had been willing to take him, leaving Tim with Roman only a week after the funeral.

Richard John Grayson, “Nightwing”, son of John and Mary Grayson. _The Flying Graysons._ He remembered hearing about the accident that had claimed the two famous acrobatics. Bruce also _didn’t_ remember anyone mentioning a child being present at their deaths. Bruce had been planning to see the very show they had died in, but trouble at the office had pulled him away. The newspaper articles and cold case file was enough to send Bruce reeling. A young, eight-year-old boy with young loving parents suddenly found himself witnessing their untimely deaths- and was unable to do anything.

It was familiar. A little too familiar for his liking.

But the biggest question was why were the four out on the streets so much? And where did Roman fall in all of this? Nothing Bruce had found showed any indication that Roman was involved in any “illegal activities”. And if the boys were in a bad situation, they had run into Batman enough to have the courage to speak up.

Right?

Bruce shook the dark thoughts away and turned his attention back to his breakfast. “Alfred, do you have any syrup in the kitchen?”

“The last thing you need, Master Bruce, is more sugar in your diet,” Alfred sighed, but dutifully left the dining room and returned only a few seconds later, syrup in hand.

“Thanks, Alfred.” Bruce poured a healthy (or unhealthy, if you asked Alfred) amount of the sticky substance on his pancakes before carving into them. After two more helpings of eggs, sausage, and pancakes, Bruce stood up from the table and headed down to the cave’s training mats. After a late night in front of the computer, he was ready for a long work-out.

He had the basic facts now. Now he just needed to figure out the “why”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Bruce, you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into. Then again, neither do I, SO--!
> 
> Come yell at me over on Tumblr! I would love to gush about this story and maybe even drop a few hints of storylines yet to come. (https://oceanera12.tumblr.com/)
> 
> If there are any typos or grammar errors I missed, please let me know. My Beta reader is myself sooooooooo... yeah.
> 
> Weekly question time!
> 
> Okay, so I like video games, but I am not necessarily good at them, but that doesn't matter because I need to ask: Is anyone else excited about Gotham Knights? Or is it just me? Because it cannot just be me and I am really hoping the game is NOT delayed and it comes out at the end of this year and I'm freaking out because COURT OF OWLS and Bruce/Batman is frickking "dead" (he's not dead and nothing short of a body, DNA tests, and interdimensional travel will convince me other wise) and Commissioner Gordon is also DEAD (kriff the Court) and playing as (most) of my Batboys and y'all can tell I'm excited right? Because I'm excited and please tell me I am not alone in my excitement.


	6. Birds at the Zoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you pay five bucks, I'll let you pet the camel.  
> If you sneak in after dark, I'll let you see the bats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What up peeps?
> 
> Quick note this week, as I have a bunch of homework that needs to be done by tonight and work starts in one hour.
> 
> I thought I should explain why Jason is screaming "HOLY GOTHAM" at the top of his lungs in this chapter, because that's a weird thing to yell, right?
> 
> So, I'm someone who does not personally like to curse. It's a personal choice and I don't condemn or hate people who do or anything. I just like to use funny and fandom replacements (I love yelling "Scrap" and getting the weirdest looks from people, seriously). But as such, I don't normally use curse words in my writing. Instead, I like to use "substitutes" that can range from nonsense to the usual "heck" and "dang it". And when it comes to writing in fandoms, I love to use their own "fictional curses" (so Star Wars has "kriff" "karabast" "sithspit" you get the idea) But Batman doesn't really have that fun quirk soooo...I had to come up with my own. I use "Gotham" as a replacement for pretty much anything you can think of. Basically, "Gotham" is a place holder for any kind of curse you want, if you think stronger language is appropriate so feel free to replace it with anything in your head. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy!

Damian woke up to Todd creeping out of bed. Normally, he’d ignore it, but Todd had just woken him up from one of his own nightmares and Damian was in no hurry to get back to sleep. He rolled over to face Todd, who was checking his backpack for his needed ‘supplies’ for the night.

Todd didn’t seem surprised by the turn of events, only pausing in his movements to motion at Damian to remain quiet.

Damian rolled his eyes before whispering. “I am not going to wake them up, Todd. Honestly.”

Drake chose that perfect moment to moan in his sleep. Todd gave Damian a look, which he responded to by grunting. Damian then climbed out of bed and quietly followed Todd out the window, despite the death glare he received from his elder brother.

“Damian go back to bed.”

“I would rather see what you do all night.”

“Damian, I’m serious. The streets are no place for a child.”

“You are a child!”

“Shh!” Todd clamped a hand over Damian’s mouth. “Rule number one: Don’t yell.”

“I was  _ not- _ “

“Rule number two.” Todd interrupted, “If you want to come, you gotta listen to everything I tell you. No protesting, no complaining, no critiquing. Got it?”

Damian frowned. “I… agree.”

“Then follow my lead, baby bird.”

“Do not call me-“ Damian bit his lip as Todd’s eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath before grumbling. “Very well. No protests starting now.”

“Good.”

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

To say Jason was annoyed about having a tag along would be an understatement. Jason had been planning this particular night outing for the past two weeks.

First, he was going to go to the old donut shop his mom used to take him to when he was kid. The place was closed but if Jason beat the dumpster divers, he’d find some mostly clean goodies. Then, he was going to head down Brooklyn St and see if any cars looked like they could do without their tires. There would most likely be at least one rich schmuck who decided that tonight was the perfect night to drink their woes away at the very exclusive club just down the road. Then, Jason would head off to his pal at the local pawn shop and see what kind of pretty penny he could get for some nice tires-- or at least see what he could trade for them. Hopefully get something good. If not, he knew a penthouse where the guard always slept through his shift. There’d probably be something semi-decent there.

But then Damian had to be stubborn and suddenly show an interest in Jason’s… less than legal activities. Jason had never taken Damian out at night before. At least, not without Dick being there. And of course, Tim came along as well. But just Damian? Never happened.

And why would Jason take one of the youngsters out on the streets at night in Gotham City? Damian didn’t need to see all of the horrors of night-time Gotham. Jason had grown up with them and he supposed Damian had as well- _ to an extent _ . The first memorable years of the kid’s life were spent alone with Roman. Who knew if the kid snuck out or how far he traveled alone? Jason shuttered to think about what can happen to a kid on the streets—and he had seen or experienced them all personally.

Despite what Damian protested, he was the baby of the family. That meant you felt this natural draw to protect him, even when he might not need protection. Jason would never say it out loud, but he felt the draw just as much, if not more than Dick. And if Jason was honest with himself, he felt a similar connection to little Timmy—not that he’d admit it aloud.

But this wasn’t Tim. This was Damian.

And with one of his kid brothers in tow, Jason decided against his “big night”. A bit begrudgingly, he decided to do something he hadn’t done since he was Damian’s age. “Move quickly and stay quiet,” Jason barked, glancing behind him.

Damian nodded, his hood shifting on his head. He looked so small compared to the darkness around him. The gray jacket faded into the black around it as Damian began to follow Jason through the streets.

The kid knew how to hide, which made sense given his habit of running. He had as much, if not more experience than Jason. He could duck out of sight at the slightest sound of trouble/knew when to keep quiet. Jason admitted to himself this helped them travel across Gotham a lot quicker than usual. It only took half an hour to reach their intended destination.

Damian did not look impressed. “The zoo?”

“You like animals, right?” Jason cocked an eyebrow.

“You do  _ not  _ visit animals every night, Todd.”

“No, I don’t. But I also don’t have a child as a tag-along every night.”

Damian looked like he wanted to protest, but seemed to think better of it, remaining silent. “I’ve been here before, Jay Bird.”

“Well, we can still look around. Right?”

“Very well.”

Avoiding security was easy (there was one guard and he fell asleep around one in the morning), which left the two of them alone. Jason was a little impressed as Damian rolled off facts about several of the exhibits. Not that he would ever say it. He did take note that the boy only cared about the more “dangerous” animals. They spent a particularly long time in front of the cages of the vipers, tigers, and lions.

This was where Jason finally had enough animal fun-facts. “You sound like Crow. Please stop.”

“Ttt. I do not sound like Drake.”

“Yeah. You do.” 

Damian folded his arms. “Then why do we not leave and do something you would normally participate in.”

“He… ck no! Wing would kill me.” Jason sat down on one of the benches.

“Chicken.”

Jason glared. “ _ No _ . And that’s final.”

“ _ Fine. _ Then perhaps something more productive.”

“Meaning…?”

Damian shifted his stance, putting his hands up in a defensive stance. “Fight me.” It was stated in such a matter a fact tone, Jason couldn’t help but snort.

“Yeah, I don’t see how that’s going to help keep me out of trouble with Wing.”

Damian shrugged, “Like it or not, I am getting older and I am growing, despite Roman’s poor diet he gives us. Some of my hiding places are getting to be a bit… tight. I am going to have to start fighting, whether you and Wing like it or not.”

Jason opened his mouth to protest, only to close it after a second. He had no argument with that statement. And even if he did, it would be a lie. Gotham was not a kind city and Damian had a point. “When you say “fight me”, are we talking about an actual fight or self-defense?”

“Is there a difference?” Damian cocked his head to the side.

“Well,” Jason thought for a moment. “I would say there is. A fight is something you plan on winning. Self-defense is being able to get away to win another day.” He paused, “If you think I go out looking for trouble, then you’re wrong.”

“You literally rob people.”

“ _ Certain _ people,” Jason emphasized. “I would, for instance, never rob someone who has a conceal carry. If someone pulls a weapon on me, I drop the thing and run. Nothing that I steal is worth getting shot. I can find an easy target somewhere else.”

Damian frowned. “Then why are you always coming home from a fight?”

“Ah, that’s different circumstances,” Jason replied.

Damian waited a moment, but Jason did not elaborate. “Like…?”

“Uh…” Jason shifted his stance, looking a little uncomfortable. “Well, we live in Gotham City. It isn’t exactly known for being friendly to people.”

“You are avoiding the question, Jay Bird.”

“Look, kid. Just know that if someone tries to snatch you off the streets that it is definitely worth getting shot to  _ not  _ go with them. Okay?” Jason attempted a casual shrug.

Damian blinked. “People have tried to kidnap  _ you _ ?”

“Hence why I carry a knife,” Jason produced the switchblade from his pocket. “Now, just because I’m a known alley kid, I get a little more… attention than others. But most of that attention is drug dealers and some old gang buddies of my deadbeat dad. You on the other hand… well, stay away from non-descript vans.” 

“I am not an idiot, Todd,” Damian glared at him. “And you do not have to coddle me. Grayson has already informed me of the horror of child trafficking.”

“Oh, thank Gotham,” Jason visibly relaxed. “I did not want to go into that.”

“Are you going to fight me or not?”

Jason motioned to the nearby grass lot near the lion cages. “One condition: this is not a fight for you. It is self-defense.”

“What about you?”

Jason smirked, “It’s a fight.”

“That is not fair!”

“No, it’s reality. You’re not gettin’ into fights. You are  _ running _ .” Jason smirked.

Damian glared at him.

Well, this wasn’t exactly how Jason had pictured on spending his birthday, but he wasn’t exactly disappointed in the turn of events. Celebrating twelve years of life by beating up his kid brother was definitely not the weirdest ways Jason had partied in the past. And it was more legal than his previous plans, which would definitely improve Wing’s mood.

Not that Dick or anyone actually knew when Jason’s birthday was, no matter how much they pestered.

Silver linings, Jason supposed.

* * *

A few years back, after one too many animal-related crimes, Batman had placed silent alarms in Gotham Zoo. Alfred had believed it to be overkill, but Bruce did not see how that was a problem. The alarms had alerted him to a few crimes over the years but the interest in the zoo had faded from most criminals (Joker was the main exception simply because he enjoyed the animal-related puns).

So late one night, Bruce was a bit surprised when the alarms tripped. Joker was in Arkham last he checked and was not due to stage a break out for at least another month. So unless he had broken out and no one had noticed, this was something else.

But he was a little busy with tracing Scarecrow’s current location (there were some rumors of him working on a new fear toxin that he needed to either confirm or deny). It was not until an hour or two after the alarm trip Batman was able to do a quick stop by.

The guard was alive but asleep. It did not appear induced, but Batman was not going to take any chances. He hacked into the security cameras and checked that the animals were still in their cages. He did not want a repeat of the Jokerized crocodiles ( _ don’t ask _ ). Nothing appeared out of place and Batman was almost ready to call it a false alarm.

Then he heard the angry shouting.

He silently crept through the exhibits only to find his alarm trippers not even trying to hide. Just when he thought his little Birds had disappeared off the map again, here he found them. Or at least two of them.

Jason Todd and Damian were on a grass patch, circling one another, fists up. Both of them were panting and showing signs of exhaustion, but neither were backing down. Damian was looking particularly determined as he lunged forward to tackle his brother to the ground.

Jason easily stepped aside. He grabbed Damian from behind and shoved the boy against the ground, pinning the boy’s arms under grab. “I don’t think you understand self-defense.”

“I do not think you understand fighting!” Damian glared at the ground. He then knocked his head back into Jason’s face, particularly his nose. Jason’s grip slipped as his eyes filled with tears. Damian used his hands to push himself onto his back, Jason’s upper body caught under him. Damian scrambled to sit on top of the boy, but Jason was too quick. The boy rolled away from the attempted pin, hopping back to his feet.

Jason poked at his nose, which was starting to bleed. “Ya know, if that hadn’t been directed at me, I mighta been proud.”

Damian straightened up at the words, clearly pleased with himself.

“ _ If _ it hadn’t been directed at me, ya little brat,” Jason glared. “It’s called ‘sparring’ not ‘break your older brother’s nose’. Next time, just tell me what you would do to get out of the stupid hold and I would have played along.”

Damian curled in on himself at that. “I broke your nose?”

“Eh…” Jason poked it again. “No, I don’t think so. But you got close.”

“Perhaps I should take a look,” Batman finally spoke up from the shadows.

Jason and Damian both jerked back from the voice, hands up and ready to fight.

Batman stepped forward into the light, hands up in surrender. “Easy, little birds. It’s just me.”

“HOLY GOTHAM--  _ Don’t do that _ !” Jason dramatically put a hand over his heart. “You’re gonna kill someone from fright if that is how you say hello, you creep!”

Damian had lost some color in his face as he quickly yanked his hood upon his head. “Jay Bird,” he hissed, motioning to the boy's own jacket. 

Bruce raised an eyebrow as Jason pulled the hood up.  _ ‘Note: suspects-- wait, they’re not suspects, what’s another word?-- subjects(?) use hoods to hide on purpose and are not just playing a form of dress-up. Could be hiding signs of child abuse or an attempt to keep identities secret. Reasons for the latter unknown.’ _

Jason was glaring at the Batman. “Are you stalking us?”

“No.”

“Then what in the name of Gotham are you doing in a clearly closed zoo?”

“Someone tripped one of my silent alarms,” Batman replied evenly. He gave both of them a look. Damian winced and Jason blushed. Batman hid a smile. They were good kids, no matter what their background was. Perhaps a little reckless and definitely had a pension for illegal activities. But good kids. “Now, how about I look at that nose?”

Jason scrunched up his face, “I’m fine, but thanks.”

“Come here and let me check it,” Batman switched from his “kid” tone to the one he used on rebellious Leaguers. Sometimes ordering was better than asking. This appeared to be the case with Jason as the kid shuffled forward, if a bit hesitant. He stopped a foot or so away.

Batman gently prodded at the nose, “Does it hurt?”

“Just a bit sore,” Jason replied. “I have broken my nose before. I know what that feels like.”

“Mmmh…” Batman poked a few more times. He reached into his belt and pulled out a cold pack. He snapped it to activate it and handed it to the boy. “Just in case, put that on your nose for half an hour. It should help with the pain.”

Jason took the pack and placed it on his nose. “Uh… thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Batman motioned around the empty zoo. “May I ask why you are here and where exactly are the other birds?”

“Robin and I couldn’t sleep,” Jason replied. “So I brought him here. He likes animals. Isn’t that right, Baby Bird?”

_ ‘Jason Todd avoided the last question by turning the attention to the youngest. Location of Dick Grayson and Timothy Drake unknown, but most likely home. Indicates, along with many other instances, concern, and wishes of well-being for his foster brothers.’ _

Batman turned his gaze to Damian. “Which one is your favorite?”

Damian stared at him a moment before pointing at the nearby lion cage. Batman nodded. “Any particular reason why?

“Lions are kings of the jungle,” Damian said. “As such, they are to be respected for their power.”

Batman hid a smile, choosing to nod gravely. “And you, Jay Bird? What is your favorite animal?”

Jason, who had been focused on the ice pack and his nose, jolted in surprise at the question. “Uh… I don’t know. Maybe wolves?”

“Wolves?” Batman repeated. “Why?”

“They are a pack animal. They fight together and protect one another.” Jason shrugged. “Hence why dogs are protective of their owners.” He hesitated a moment. The next words were said quickly and quietly “I also really liked _ “Call of the Wild” _ and _ “White Fang” _ . The books, not the movies.”

Bruce made a mental note to reread both of those books. Then he questioned why he desired to do such a thing. 

_ ‘Jason Todd shows some knowledge of literary classics. Suggests some form of formal schooling is continued in foster home, despite none of the boys being enrolled in a public school.’ _

“Sound reasoning, Jay Bird. Same to you, Robin.” Batman paused, making sure to keep a straight face. “I personally prefer bats.”

Jason and Damian stared at him. Batman could only imagine their thoughts right now. But their expressions were worth the comment as they debated if Batman was being serious or joking.

A clock began to chime in the distance, drawing all three to look at the zoo’s tower. Jason cursed. “Uh, sorry but we should really get going. Nightwing will kill us if we’re not back when the sun is up.”

Batman nodded acknowledgment before offering, “Would you like a ride?”

To little surprise, Jason shook his head. “No, we’re good,” Jason assured. “Come on, Robin.” Bruce did not blame the boy. Stranger danger was the one rule street kids knew and knew well.

Damian hesitantly waved goodbye at Batman and turned to follow the older boy towards the outer fence. Batman couldn’t help but call after them, “Nice fighting skills to both of you!”

Jason and Damian paused and looked back.

“But maybe keep the fighting to the professionals,” he added. Alfred would kill him if he encouraged children to punch their problems.

Jason scoffed at the statement but raised his own hand in farewell. Then the two vanished into the darkness leaving Batman alone in the zoo. He stood there for a moment, hesitating. Should he follow them home or return to the hunt for Scarecrow?

Well, they had survived this long on their own. And Scarecrow was a top priority. Besides, tonight had given him plenty of information to go over later in the cave.

Batman returned to the Batmobile and continued searching for Scarecrow. And if he happened to grabble past the Birds apartment several times for the next hour until he knew Jason and Damian had returned home safely… well, that was something he chose to leave out of the nightly report.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Damian brother bonding time!
> 
> And yes, Jason did not tell anyone when his birthday is so Dick is constantly pestering the boy for a date. He knows it's sometime in the late summer/early fall, but that's about it. Jason is a bit stubborn...
> 
> Two questions this time, because I would love some input. Can you think of any kind of "Batman-y" substitute curses? Because Gotham can only go so far, seriously. Although, I guess Gotham is pretty much all of the bad words combined sooooo...
> 
> Second and much more fun question: we talked about the Robins. Now how about the Batgirls? Who is your favorite Batgal (and that does not mean it has to be an actual Batgirl. You can do Black bat, Batwoman, Spoiler, etc.)
> 
> I'm saying Oracle/Barbra Gordon because... it's Oracle. You can't beat Oracle.


	7. If You Give a Bird a Riddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riddle me this: What's green, really loud, and really full of himself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all? How was your week? Mine's been alright. Homework is being a pain but inventory at work is OVER so three cheers!
> 
> Thank you to everyone for the 380 Kuddos on this story so far! I'm blown away by the support and enthusiasm so many of you have shown for this story and am definitely working more on part 2. So hopefully I have that done by the time I'm done posting this one... We'll just have to see.
> 
> Also, y'all get the updated Birds Casefile at the end of this chapter and I am really excited about it.
> 
> Without further ado, let's go see what situation our little birdies have stumbled into this time around.

It was Jason’s idea to go to the park for ice cream at seven o’clock at night. Damian fully supported the idea as it was his “birthday” and they had been playing cards all day inside due to the large thunderstorm that had been pouring for the past two days. It had finally let up an hour or so earlier and Dick knew if he refused, Damian wouldn’t speak to him for a month. And so, he reluctantly agreed to the escapade.

The ice-cream parlor was surprisingly empty for a Wednesday night. The owner knew them by sight and pulled up the usual in a quick and mannerly fashion. Damian with his chocolate and nut toppings, Jason and his strawberry mixed with cherries, Tim and his caramel pecan, and Dick with plain old vanilla. (“It’s a  _ classic _ .” “No, it’s  _ boring _ .”

Jason insisted on paying for it with his “pocket change”. Dick tried to use some plastic bottles and tin can money, but Jason brought up the upcoming fair, They were already short as it was so Dick reluctantly agreed.

Gotham City Park isn’t exactly the best idea of a “park”. On one hand, Poison Ivy kept it green and lively (even when she was in Arkham, which the residents chose not to question). On the other hand,  _ Poison Ivy  _ was in charge of landscaping. If you even accidentally littered, you’d find yourself tied up in vines faster than you could get off the grass. 

Unless you were a kid. Apparently, the good Doctor didn’t like people who picked on kids, despite the fact she tried to mind control Gotham's population every year or so. Jason had told Dick that he was actually on a “friendly” basis with the Rouge. She didn’t know his name or anything, but she knew his red hoodie by sight and had actually helped him out of a tough spot two years back. Now, Dick didn’t trust that “friendship” enough to say he wanted to meet Poison Ivy in the park. But he also never told Damian or Tim they couldn’t go in the park. It was an… interesting situation.

On this particular night, Ivy was still in Arkham. So Dick was pretty confident the park would remain mind-controlling spore free, at least for the next hour or so. But they still found an empty park bench near the exit. Just in case. They ate in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the cold treat on a summer night (especially since hoodies do not help keep you cool).

“Happy Birthday, baby bird.’ Dick teased with a smile.

Damian grunted but didn’t protest, his mouth full of chocolaty goodness.

Jason finished off his cone with a loud crunch. “Should we sing to ya?”

That got a very strong reaction from the youngest. Damian shook his head hard and tried to speak with his mouth still full of ice cream. “ ‘o’t o da”

“Yeah, I didn’t get any of that,” Jason smirked and began to sing. _ “Happy Birthday to--” _

Damian swallowed. “If you do not stop that I can guarantee you will wake up to an empty bed tomorrow.”

“You’re no fun, Robin,” Jason grumbled.

Dick rolled his eyes, “Says the boy who refuses to tell us his birthday.”

“Eh,” Jason shrugged. He nodded at Tim, who still had over half of his cone left. “You gonna eat that?”

Tim took a big bite. He narrowed his eyes at the older boy and nodded. Jason sighed loudly but did not try to steal the ice cream.

Silence fell on the group again, their focus turned on their sugary treat. The distant buildings were now just black shadows on the orange sky as the sunset. The street lights began to flick on, painting their own yellow light on the ground below. By the time they all finished, the streetlights were stronger than the distant sun.

That was the Birds cue to get off the streets and back to the apartment.

They didn’t get far when they spotted a man dressed in green from head to toe. He came sprinting through the park’s entrance and in their general direction, cackling like a maniac. It took a moment, but Dick recognized him as The Riddler.

Dick and Jason instinctively pushed Damian and Tim behind them and to the side of the sidewalk. With any luck, the man would ignore them and continue to run deeper into the park. All the same, Jason flicked open his switchblade and Dick was ready to spring into action.

Riddler didn’t even get in shouting distance to them. Something flew from the shadows and wrapped around the Riddler’s arms and legs. The ropes tangled tightly around Riddler and knocked him to the ground. By the time he was able to get free, Batman was ready to punch him out.

Apparently, the Riddler had a harder head than Dick expected because even after a Batman punch, the man began to  _ shriek _ . Something about Batman not playing fair and his intelligence being inferior to his own. Batman ignored him, talking to someone in his com (most likely the Commissioner).

Jason visibly relaxed and actually put the knife away. And when Jason  _ “I-grew-up-on-the-streets-and-don’t-trust-anyone _ ” Todd relaxed, Dick relaxed.

Now, this is the part of the night where Jason would grab one of the boy’s arms and drag them in the opposite direction of the Bat. Dick would follow suit with the other kid and they would sprint off into the streets to disappear without a trace. So Dick was a little confused when Jason did not do such a thing but stayed put.

The Birds remained where they were and watched as the Riddler continued to shout and scream about “higher intellect” and such.

“Bit early for the Crazies to be out,” Jason finally said to no one in particular.

Tim shrugged, “Maybe Riddler decided to get an early start or something.”

They watched Batman yank the Riddler to his feet. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his belt and locked them tight around the rouge’s wrists. He checked the lock, then looked up from the cuffs and Riddler. That was when he finally saw the four distant multi-colored hoodies. Batman visibly straightened up. His unblinking stare was locked on the four boys and Dick found his feet suddenly unwilling to cooperate in running away.

Dick cursed himself for not leading the charge home.

“...Should we say ‘hello’ or something?” Tim asked.

“He’s the Dark Knight! You don’t just say  _ ‘hello’  _ to the  _ freakin  _ Ba,” Jason answered.

It was Damian who moved first-- but in the wrong direction. He practically marched towards the Dark Knight and the still raving mad man. None of the other Birds processed what he was doing until the boy was only a few feet away from the vigilante and villain. Jason and Dick took off running within the same second, Tim close behind.

Batman straightened up even more and appeared to double-check the handcuffs were secure.

Riddler was  _ still  _ ranting, “How dare you, Dark Knight, ruin my brilliant plans before they can even begin! You cheated! My knowledge and intellect are far superior to yours! Always has been, always will be!”

Damian snorted loudly.

Riddler looked over, clearly surprised at the sudden appearance of a child in a gray sweatshirt. “What do you find so amusing,  _ inferior  _ child?” he demanded with narrowed eyes.

Jason and Dick came to a halt behind Damian. They shared a look, with the first looking amused and the latter looking mortified.

Damian’s hair stood on end, his fists clenching at his sides. “Inferior?  _ Inferior _ ? The only  _ ‘inferior’  _ person here is  _ you _ .”

Dick stepped forward and tried to pull Damian back. No need to bring even  _ more  _ attention to this already bad situation. “Alright, Robin, leave the criminal alone.”

Damian ignored him. As usual. “You claim to have higher intellect, you claim to be better, but look who is wearing the cuffs!”

“He cheats-!”

“AH!” Damian held up his hands, “If you were so much  _ ‘higher and mightier’ _ you would have anticipated every move, every word, every breath Batman took before he caught you. But you did not. So, shut up and let the adults talk.” He then turned to Batman and gave a polite nod, “Good evening, Batman. I see you’re already at work tonight clearing Gotham of its  _ filth _ .”

Batman’s mouth was hanging slightly open as he stared at Damian, who had left Enigma speechless for a moment, a rare feat indeed. Jason was trying to smother his laughter into his jacket sleeve, along with Tim who looked like he was trying not to smile. Dick just sighed, exasperated, to the heavens above.

Unfortunately, Riddler found his voice, “You  _ are  _ inferior, puny Robin! I can prove it!”

“With what, a  _ riddle _ ?” Damian rolled his eyes. “Please, your riddles aren’t even that difficult.”

“Oh, really?” Riddler smirked. "Then riddle me this: I can fill a room or just one heart. Others may have me but I cannot be shared. What am I?" 

Damian didn’t move for a moment. Then he crossed his arms across his chest and huffed. “Loneliness, you little-”

“Robin!” Dick interrupted quickly. “How about we just go home?”

“Not until this man admits he is the “ _ inferior”  _ one.” Damian spat.

Riddler was blinking quickly and eyes wide, not even trying to hide the surprise on his face. It turned sour quickly. “Lucky guess, Robin. Let us go again.”

Damian shook his head, “No. I won. Test yourself on one of them.”

Batman finally interjected, “Robin, it would be best if-”

“Don’t interrupt, Dark Knight.” Riddler snapped. “Allow me to prove to this insolent child that I am superior.”

Dick wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Batman lifting the Riddler to his feet, then facing the Birds. “Very well.”

Riddler looked pleased as he addressed the four boys. “I live for laughter, I live for the crowd, for without either, I am nothing. What am I?”

Jason and Tim shared a look of confusion. Damian remained passive as ever, his hood covering any emotion that might have flickered. The silence stretched for a few more seconds before Dick spoke up, “The circus.”

Riddler’s smile shrank a little. “Another lucky guess.” His smug expression returned and the next riddle was given, “I am everywhere, but you can’t see me. When you say my name, I am gone. What am I?”

Dick frowned. Jason scratched his head. Damian didn’t move.

“Quiet,” Tim mumbled after a moment.

A flash of anger flared across Riddler’s face. He scowled, “What is unwanted and eternal, though for some people, an escape?”

Jason answered this time with little hesitation. “Death.”

Enigma growled, “You are cheating somehow!”

“How?” Damian demanded, “We cannot look them up or anything.”

“Quiet you-” Riddler found his voice cut off as Batman covered his mouth and yanked him back, away from The Birds.

“Shut up, Enigma,” he caught Damian’s eye and the boy could have sworn he saw a smile flick across his face. “The adults are talking.”

* * *

The Riddler was now properly tied up, hanging upside down from a lamppost. Perhaps not needed, but certainly deserved. Batman had also gagged him because no one deserved to listen to Enigma screaming insults. The police sirens were on the horizon, which meant Bats had about five minutes to make himself scarce.

And so did the Birds.

"Come," Batman ordered. He spun on his heel and headed in the opposite direction of the sirens and screeching Riddler, towards the back exit of the park. He risked a glance behind him and was pleasantly surprised to find Robin following him. Jay was close behind, his pipe back out of his bag, but held loosely. Crow was right on Jay's heels, clearly wanting to join Robin near the front, but holding back for unknown reasons. Nightwing trailed last, his movements stiff and guarded. He was the eldest after all and should be the most cautious. Bruce was surprised it wasn’t Jason in the back.

If Bruce could have, he would have clapped for joy. But he kept his stoic face and continued onward. He finally stopped on the sidewalk, just outside the park wall.

The boys stopped a bit behind him but made no movement to bolt.

Another victory. Time to see how much they actually trusted him.

“You four have a nasty habit of running into me,” Batman said with a hidden smile. He kept his back to the group and made a show of pulling up old security footage. Riddler had been quite busy this afternoon, preparing for an evening battle of wits. Too bad that Batman’s facial recognition software gave the Bat a heads up. But he still would double-check the footage for any sort of clue or slip of paper Enigma might have left behind.

There was always another game with him.

There was a pause for a moment. “We’re not following you. Honest.” Nightwing said rather quickly. “We were out getting a treat.”

“It’s Robin’s birthday,” Crow piped up.

Batman stopped looking at his security footage and turned slowly to the group. “Is that so?” He kept his tone even, hiding the small victory. A fact to add to the report! 

Robin rolled his eyes, “It’s not really my birthday. 364 to 1. Wing just likes to ‘celebrate’ it.”

Bruce was really going to have to go home and have some of Alfred’s cookies or something. He already knew Damian did not have an official birthday, but they did not know he knew that. That was two pieces of willing information without holding someone over a building. Not that he would ever do that to a child.

“Everyone needs a birthday, baby bird,” Nightwing tried to hug him, but Robin ducked down and growled his protest at the name.

Batman turned away to hide a smile and checked at how far the cops were. Three minutes, if his experience was anything to go off of. “Well, happy birthday, Robin. How old are you turning?” He was not expecting an answer.

He got one. “Somewhere between eight and nine… at least, that’s what most people think.”

“Not quite to double digits, but soon enough.” Batman nodded slowly. He now wished he had  _ grabbed  _ some of the previously mentioned cookies. The butler had just made some for a charity pot-luck earlier in the day and Bruce  _ had  _ been tempted to grab some for the road. Perhaps he had a stick of gum or something in his belt. He quickly checked while he apologized for the Riddler’s appearance. “He always enjoys ruining a good evening.”

Robin shrugged, “It was much more exciting than the card games Wing was having us play all day.”

Batman didn’t find any gum or any other sweet edible. In fact, the only ‘edible’ he had was a pill of the antidote to Joker gas.

_ ‘Note to self: add gum compartment to the belt.’ _

Oh well, a Batarang would have to do. He pulled out a blunt one and double-checked it wasn’t a trap or involved electricity before handing it over to Robin. “Here. Don’t use it on anyone or I’ll take it back.”

Robin examined the object as Crow was practically bouncing with excitement behind him, trying to get a closer look. “What if a person is particularly annoying me?”

“No.” Wing and Batman said at the same time.

“What if someone is trying to harm me?”

“Well…” Wing trailed off.

Batman almost chuckled, “Be my guest, but I hope it never comes to that.” He paused, cocked his head to the side, and listened to the sirens again. Approximately thirty seconds, which meant his time was now up. “Fly home, little birds. It’s getting late.”

All four chimed “Yes, Batman,” then sprinted down the street and into an alley. Batman aimed his grapple at a nearby skyscraper and launched it into the sky. He flew up and into the night, disappearing to anyone who was watching very quickly. He waited on top of the building a moment before flying in the direction of the Birds apartment. Patrol could wait a little longer. First, he’d make sure the four had no trouble getting back. Then he would stop by the manor and get a bag of cookies. He’d leave them in the dumpster outside their window or something. One of them would hopefully find it there in the morning and take them inside and no one would be the wiser.

* * *

_ Casefile: The Birds _

~~_ Suspects  _ ~~ _ Subjects:  _ _   
_ _ Dick Grayson _ _ AKA “ _ _ Nightwing _ _ ”  _ _   
_ _ Jason Todd _ _ AKA “ _ _ Jay Bird _ _ ” _ _   
_ _ Timothy Drake _ _ AKA “ _ _ Crow _ _ ” _ _   
_ _ Damian _ _ AKA “ _ _ Robin _ _ ” _

_ Status: In progress _

_ Opened: June 19th 20XX: _

_ Closed: N/A _

_Reports:_ _  
_ _June 19th-_ _The Wharf_ _  
_ _June 27th- (Robin)_ _Jefferson and Phelps Alleyway_ _  
_ _July 13th-_ _Two-Face Bank Robbery_ _  
_ _July 30th- (Civilian Interaction)_ _Vreeland Charity Ball_ _  
_ _August 16th- (Jay Bird and Robin)_ _Gotham Public Zoo_ _  
_ _August 21st-_ _Riddler, Gotham Park_ _  
_**_→open report←_**

_Riddler_ _( full report) attempted to “stump” all four of the Birds with a riddle. All four correctly identified the answer. Reason the four were in the park: __Robin_ _’s “unofficial” birthday. All had ice cream and there was no hint of subterfuge in their actions or words.They revealed more personal information as well without the need to dig. Both actions indicate a growing trust towards Batman. Will continue to work on finding the truth of their living situation._ _  
_ _Roman James_ _was nowhere in sight, nor showed any indication that the boys were even gone when observed later in the evening._ _  
_**_→end report←_**

_ Known affiliates:  _ _ Roman James _ _ , foster parent.  _ _ May James _ _ , foster worker. _

_ Attached Evidence: _ _   
_ _ Security Footage _ _ , June 19th, Wayne Ent. Property, Gotham Wharf _ _   
_ _ Security Footage _ _ , July 13th, Gotham City Bank _ _   
_ _ Security Footage _ _ , August 16th, Gotham Public Zoo _

_Attached Files and Reports:_ _  
_ _Social Services_ _, Dick Grayson_ _  
_ _Autopsy Report_ _, John and Mary Grayson_ _  
_ _Accident Report_ _, John and Mary Grayson_ _  
_ ** _“The Flying Graysons”_** _archive footage_ _  
__1990-1992_ _  
__1993-1995_ _  
__1996-1999_ _  
__2000-2002_ _  
__2003-20XX_ _  
_ ** _“Farwell Performance of the Flying Graysons”_** _  
_ _Social Services_ _, Jason Todd_ _  
_ _Criminal Record_ _, Willis Todd_ _  
_ _Arrest Records_ _, Willis Todd_ _  
_ _Court Record_ _, Willis Todd_ _  
_ _Arrest Record_ _, Cathrine Todd_ _  
_ _Health Records_ _, Cathrine Todd_ _  
_ _Autopsy Report_ _, Catherine Todd_ _  
_ _Gotham Gazette, Obituaries page_ _, Catherine Todd_ _  
_ _Social Services_ _, Timothy Drake_ _  
_ _Gotham Gazette, Obituaries page_ _, Janet Drake_ _  
_ _Health Records_ _, Janet Drake_ _  
_ _Funeral Program_ _, Janet Drake_ _  
_ _Robbery Report_ _, Drake Manor_ _  
_ _Autopsy Report_ _, Jack Drake_ _  
_ _Gotham Gazette, Obituaries page_ _, Jack Drake_ _  
_ _Social Services_ _, Damian_ _  
_ _Health Record_ _, Damian_ _  
_ _Department of Washington State Records_ __, Damian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than normal (I think?) but don't worry. Next week is... (checks word count) currently +7,000 words. I do have to edit it (again) and maybe add/remove some stuff (again) but ... Yeah, maybe I should split it into two parts? I probably won't but that's something to look forward to at least if you like long chapters.
> 
> No matter how Damian is raised he's still a bit full of himself. Then again, Riddler is just a jerk. I based this Riddler on the one in the Arkham Games because seriously, that guy's ego needs to be knocked down a peg, and having a bunch of kids solve his very stupid riddles was just FUN.
> 
> Alright, the question of the week is:  
> What is your favorite off-shoot/timeline of DC? This can be a video game, comic, movie, whatever. I personally really like DCeased and Injustice simply because of the characters. DCeased has the best versions of Damian and Jason, fight me. And Injustice is just really interesting to think about (that and I don't like Superman so him as a villain is really cool. No offense to him, but he's always felt really... bland to me? I like Clark Kent just fine which makes zero sense but whatever brain. Don't make sense)


	8. Birdies at the Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Gotham City Street Faire! The best way to kick off the end of the summer!  
> And (for once) no villain decides to show up and wreck the place up!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! I hope y'all are doing alright. The world is crazy so remember to hold on tight and it is totally okay to grab a pillow and scream into it every once in a while.
> 
> Anyway, I'll be honest: this chapter is... not my favorite? It is definitely one of my longest and I am certainly very proud of this chapter but it's really all over the place. One second it's fun carnival games, the next is weird PTSD flashbacks sooooooo... This chapter will feature every one of the little birds and you'll get to see their thoughts on some things.
> 
> There is also A LOT of foreshadowing for A LOT of things. Most of them are not even going to happen in this story! So I hope you enjoy it and I hope it gets some of you speculating. I'll see y'all at the bottom!

Every year, in the fourth week of August, Gotham threw a street fair. It was “simple” in the sense of it was mostly raffles, rigged games, and a bit of showboating from some of the big companies in the city. It was mostly a chance for some advertising or an excuse for tourism increase just before school started up again. At least, that was what Tim said.

It was also a popular event that Gotham’s Rogues loved to crash on a yearly basis because nothing in Gotham can be that simple.

And yet there they were, standing in line to buy tickets on the first day it opened. Damian was trying to peer over the people in front of them to see how long the line was. Dick assured him it wouldn’t be long as Jason tapped his foot impatiently.

“Can this line get moving?” He demanded.

Dick rolled his eyes, “Do you have somewhere to be?”

“Actually, yes. I do.”

“Let me guess,” Damian smirked, “The rigged milk bottle game?”

Jason glared at him, “I’m going to win that whistle and there is nothing you can say that will change my mind.”

Tim frowned. “What whistle?”

Dick playfully nudged Jason, “Every year, Jason tries to win this silver whistle from a carnival game we all know is rigged.”

Jason glared at the other three, “I didn’t get to try last year! Don’t judge me!”

Tim bit his lip and looked down at the sidewalk, tightening his grip on his bag. 

Last year, Tim had arrived at Roman’s a few weeks before the fair and hadn’t spoken for a least a month. Dick had insisted that all of them stay home from the fair when Tim had refused to go. Jason and Damian hadn’t been happy but had complied (although Jason had broken into four cars that day in rebellion).

Dick must have sensed his guilt because he took Tim’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fun.”

Tim gave a small smile. “Honestly, I’m here for the experimental tech expose. My… father used to bring me every year.”

Dick squeezed his hand again. “Sounds like fun, Timmy.” He lowered his voice, “If you need someone with you, I’m happy to come. We all have our… triggers. I have to avoid peanut vendors. Every time I get a sniff of them my brain goes back to the circus.”

Tim smiled and squeezed Dick’s hand back, then pulled free. The message was clear, _‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine.’_

Damian let out a sigh of relief, “Finally!” They had arrived at the front of the line. Dick stepped forward with a few bills in his hands. The vendor handed back the number of tickets and waved them on.

This year, they had enough money for everyone to get three tickets-- much to Jason’s annoyance. “Come on, Wing. Three? We usually get at least five!”

Dick cleared his throat loudly and motioned vaguely in the direction of Tim. The message was silent, but clear: _“There’s more of us and money is tight as is. Deal with it.”_

Tim, too bright for his own good, blushed bright red, tore one of his tickets off the strand, and shoved the other two into Jason’s hands before running into the crowd. 

Dick glared at Jason. “We’ll talk later.” He then dashed after Tim.

Jason stared at the five tickets in his hands and felt a surge of guilt. “Here, Damian.” He pushed Tim’s tickets into the youngest’s hands. Damian looked surprised but didn’t say anything, sliding them into his pockets.

“Uh… you know where I’ll be.” Jason shoved his hands in his pockets then pushed his way through the crowd towards the carnival games, leaving Damian standing by the entrance. Probably not the best idea, especially with Dick already mad at him, but he needed to think.

After he got out of sight of Damian he pushed his fingers into his hair and groaned. “Stupid Jason, that was stupid!” He kicked a rock on the ground in frustration and lost it among the moving figures.

If Jason was being honest with himself (and that was a rarity), he knew he was a bad brother. Like, a _really_ bad brother. He stole things, encouraged breaking rules and not getting caught, lied like no tomorrow, and angered quickly. Not exactly “good example” material. When it had just been him, or even him and Damian, life had been simple. Damian minded his own business and Jason just did what he normally did. Broke into people’s homes and cars and stole stuff.

Then Golden Boy Richard came around. When Jason had first met Dick, he was not what he expected. For one, Dick’s parents had just died. He was expecting to get a kid who was so depressed that he wouldn’t leave his room. Instead, Dick cried maybe twice then moved on. He started to try and make the two of them smile, take them out for ice cream, would randomly hug them in the middle of the day, and tell them how much he cared for them. Most of the time, Jason just ignored it and had ignored it for the first two weeks.

Then Golden boy found out about his pickpocketing and he suddenly became a ‘responsible’ brother or something and for his first time in his life, Jason was being disciplined.

And he didn’t mean the beatings his father used to give him when he talked back. Dick would _lecture_ him. He would raise his voice and say how disappointed he was in Jason and how Jason could do better than this and how Damian deserved better and _blah, blah, blah_.

And you know the worst part? It actually got to him. True, Jason still snuck out at night and still broke into places, but at least he had cut back on the actual stealing. Yes, he still broke into mansions and touched all of the expensive stuff. But his "criminal activities," as Dick called them, had dropped since the lecturing started. And Jason had no idea why he listened to them.

Of course, Jason was also the only one who knew the whole ‘sunshine’ routine was (at least partially) an act. Yes, Dick smiled, cracked jokes, and told silly stories to them before tucking them in at night (well, tucking Tim in at night. Damian hated it and Jason dared Dick to try it and he’d find a black eye in the morning).

Maybe if he was a better, more responsible, and more law-abiding brother then Dick wouldn’t have started his “parkour adventures” as the idiot called them. Jason liked to call them “death wishes”. 

Dick must have rubbed off on him or something because the first time Jason saw Dick jump off the side of a building and freefall for much too long, he had practically wrung the kids’ neck. Because if Dick died… well, Jason wasn’t sure what he’d do. He didn’t know what actual guardianship looked like! His father had been a crook and his mother an addict. That isn’t exactly a healthy example! He left most of the “parenting” skills to Dick. If something happened to Dick, then Damian would be left with just Jason. Not a good idea.

(It had nothing to do with the fact that Jason actually cared about the responsible jerk. Nothing at all.)

When Tim had come along three years later, Jason had suddenly realized he wasn’t the middle child anymore. He couldn’t just sit back and do nothing- two kids were too much for Dick to handle alone. He was only twelve (barely eleven when Tim showed up). No, that job now went to Timmy. 

He’d been… _replaced_. That sounded stupid, and deep down inside he knew that wasn’t true. But he had lost his place as the middle kid. Now he was the second in command, so to speak. True, he had always been ‘second’ and he still was, but… it was different. And he hated it.

Even after a year, he still hated it, albeit not as much. Tim had proven to be a smart kid and Jason had grown to care for his geeky brother, but now things seemed more complicated. Now they had to make sure there was enough food for four, enough clothing for four, enough blankets for four. Adding another person had upped Dick’s stress, which meant more jumping. And when Dick jumped, Jason needed to go break into something. And when Jason broke into something, Dick needed to jump. The cycle was in a loop and Jason didn’t know what to do.

He once thought of going straight, and he had tried for a week. _Honest_. But that week had been boring for him and stomachs growled more often from lack of food (he did bring home goodies with any money he had taken off the rich snobs on the street and without it, Jason realized how little Roman actually fed them).

He shoved all those thoughts away. Today was Fair day. It was supposed to be fun. Which meant trying to win at the stupid rigged games; particularly, one.

Jason honestly couldn’t remember when it started. He had a vague memory of his father and mother taking him to the fair for the first time at the age of three, but the years that followed only mom had come. He might have been five or six when he first found the booth- and the silver whistle.

The object of the game was simple- knock over a bunch of milk bottles and win the prize. The actual practice of it? Not so simple. At first, he hadn’t been strong enough to hit the far tower. Then, he had to learn how to aim. When he was finally eight, he hit the back tower for the first time.

And that was when he found out the game was rigged. The man in charge, a short fat man called Wilson, just chuckled and told him tough luck. And thus, the rivalry began. Wilson was either amused or annoyed at his yearly try, Jason could never tell, but he never verbally complained. It meant more money to him at the end of the day anyway. And after six years, Jason didn’t even care about the whistle anymore. It was about the principle- no one cheated _him_ out of anything.

Jason didn’t say a word when he slammed all his tickets down on the counter. He just glared at Wilson who gave a crooked grin. “Three rounds, three balls. Knock down each tower for a prize from the top shelf. Good luck, kid.”

The first throw hit the nearest tower, which fell to the ground. The next stack fell only a few seconds later. Jason then hurled his last ball as hard as he could at the last one, losing accuracy in favor of power. It missed, but only by a few inches.

Wilson set up the front two and Jason repeated the process. This time, he managed to nick the top bottle, but to no surprise, it didn’t even waver. On the final try, Jason finally nailed the tower in the center.

He was rewarded with the baseball bouncing harmlessly off and leaving it standing. Jason glared at Wilson, who was gazing off into the distance extremely bored.

“Come on! Just give me the stupid whistle!”

“No can-do kid. You can take three small prizes though.”

Jason slammed his fist on the counter and leaned forward, “I don’t want the freaking stuffed animals!”

“Too bad.”

Jason pressed his hands into his face and felt the urge to punch something or scream. Or maybe both. He would have stolen the stupid whistle by now except it was hanging in the back of the booth above the cursed immoveable bottles. If he slugged Wilson then he’d be able to just jump over the counter and grab the stupid thing, but then the cheat would call security and the last thing he needed was trouble with the cops. Dick would kill him for it.

Although the smirk Wilson was giving him was making him think twice. Before he could make up his mind a deep but gentle voice spoke from behind.

“Excuse me, but may I have a go?”

Jason’s eyes flew open and he whirled around to find himself facing none other than Mr. Billionaire Wayne himself- albeit in a baseball hat and sunglasses, which Jason always thought was a poor excuse for a disguise.

Wilson shrugged. “Got a ticket?” He either didn’t recognize the billionaire or didn’t care who he was.

Wayne nodded and placed it on the counter, which was swiped up faster than you could blink. Wilson handed the man three balls.

In quick succession, Wayne knocked down the first two towers then paused. He fingered the last ball and wound up the pitch before sending it off at a speed that Jason would have never expected from a spoiled rich kid. The ball smashed into the back tower, shattered the bottles and went straight through the back of the tent.

Wilson had taken the moment to take a sip of soda and was rewarded with coughing it back up out his nose. Jason felt no sympathy as the cheat sputtered and coughed.

Wayne pulled off his sunglasses and leaned against the wooden counter, “Now, Mr. Wilson, I can tolerate most businessmen. What I cannot tolerate, is liars.” Wayne pointed at the box of tickets and the refills of little prizes at Wilson’s feet, “If you cannot afford to give away the large prizes, then don’t offer them.”

Wilson must have recognized Wayne at that moment and the color drained out of his face, “Mr. Wayne, I must apologize. I-”

“Save it.” Wayne snapped, effectively ending any hope of a compromise. “I want you to leave your booth here, Mr. Wilson, and leave the fair. I will call one of my employees to run it for you- in a fair way. Whatever is here at the end of the day, you can take home. Am I understood?”

Wilson nodded, scooped up his soda and fries, then dashed away. 

Jason snorted to himself. The man obviously had no spine. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he quickly pulled away, spinning around ready to fight or run.

Bruce Wayne held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you… Jay isn’t it?”

“Uh…” Jason stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets. It was a position that appeased his father, as Jason couldn’t hit back if his hands were stuffed away. He had never quite broken the habit even after all these years. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“You were outside of the charity ball, were you not?” Wayne replied, a small smile appearing on his face. “I take it your family is here at the fair, enjoying the events?”

“Yes, sir,” Jason said.

Wayne nodded then motioned at the booth, “Would you like another go- this time with a chance of winning?”

“I’m out of tickets.” Jason pointed out.

Wayne shrugged, “Consider it on the house. I do fund most of the games.” The man went around the counter and replaced all of the bottles, then placed three baseballs on the counter. He pointed at the far tower, his expression stoic. “That one shouldn’t be any trouble to you now.”

Three throws later and Jason found himself holding the whistle he had been staring at for as long as he could remember. It was smooth and thin, about five inches long. The sound was louder than he expected and sharper. Not bad- for a carnival game.

Mr. Wayne seemed to agree, letting out a low whistle. “I see why you wanted it.”

Jason slipped the prize around his neck and into his hoodie. “I didn’t need your help, Mr. Wayne.”

“You’re right, you didn’t.” Bruce smiled again. “But it is never a bad thing to receive some.”

Jason frowned, not understanding, but nodded politely all the same. “Whatever you say.”

Bruce motioned at the small prizes, “Anything else stand out to you? I think I overheard Wilson say you could take three?”

At first, Jason was going to refuse, but then he saw the stuffed bird and the notepad. The bird was cheaply made and the stitching was already coming loose, but Damian would like it all the same. The pad was plain, just a red cover, and rather small, but Tim was always scribbling on napkins and other scraps of paper from the trash. The kid needed a notebook. He scooped them up into his backpack without a word.

Bruce chuckled to himself, “If that’s all, Jay, I need to call someone to take over the booth.” He pulled out a cell phone and Jason took that as his cue to leave.

Besides, he had somewhere to be anyway. He needed to find a certain brother to whom he owed an apology.

* * *

Dick was going to kill Jason the next time he saw him. Tim was gone and Dick had no idea where the kid had run off to. He had already checked the tech expo and was now wandering around the petting zoo, which was where he found Damian, to no surprise.

Add _‘abandoning Damian’_ to the lecture. Not that Damian minded being left alone. He claimed to enjoy it, but Dick always saw that small flash of relief that shone in the kid’s eyes when he was found. Nor did he miss the joy that momentarily shone through when Dick insisted on staying with him at the zoo.

It took two tickets to get in, but Dick honestly didn’t care. His tickets generally went towards food products anyway, since Jason always wasted his on that rigged game and was hangry by one in the afternoon. 

Dick ended up leaning against the fences and watched Damian pet all of the animals (which he had either named or learned their names).

It was strange to watch the usually angry and resentful child smile and gently talk to his ‘friends’. Although, it did make sense in some weird way. Damian had often been referred to by Roman as an animal- especially when he was younger. Dick didn’t even want to think about how a two-year-old boy had survived for two years on his own before Jason arrived. And Jason hadn’t been much better than Roman. It was another three months before Dick came around and another week before he had realized the boy had never been properly cared for in his life.

Then his life was suddenly taken up by taking care of two, now three, boys younger than him. He quickly learned that not everything his parents did for him worked for other kids. He also started to understand what his mother meant when she said, _“When you have kids, you’ll understand why we do what we do.”_ True, Dick wasn’t their actual parent--

But he was the closest thing they had to one.

Damian had moved from the sheep to the goats and was offering them some tin can he had dug out of a trashcan to them when Dick saw it. His heart stopped for a brief second and he could only stare at the vendor cart as it pushed its way through the crowd, eyes fixed on one item- or more specifically, the name on it.

Confusion filled his mind. How the heck did a Haley’s Circus t-shirt even get to a Gotham street fair? There was no time to think about it now, the cart was rolling out of sight and Dick vaulted over the fence without a second thought. He didn’t catch the vendor until the food court and it was only then he realized he had left Damian alone. 

_Again_.

Delete _‘abandoning Damian’_ from the lecture topic list for Jason.

Too late to turn back he approached the vendor and pointed at the old shirt, “How much for that?”

The woman looked a little surprised at the selection and actually had to look at the item’s tag. “Three tickets.”

Dick almost cursed but managed to bite his tongue. “Thank you for your time.” Sullen and a bit disappointed, he turned away and began to head back towards the petting zoo.

He only walked a few steps when he bumped into someone and mumbled an apology, not even looking up.

“Well now, that’s quite alright,” a soft voice responded.

It sounded familiar and Dick was shocked to find Bruce flippin’ Wayne standing in front of him in a t-shirt and jeans- not at all what Dick expected a billionaire to walk around in, even on weekends.

Mr. Wayne looked over his head at something, then back down at Dick, his smile kind. “Hello, again.”

“I think you have mistaken me for someone else, sir,” Dick blushed.

“No, I don’t think so. You and your brothers were given food by the guard… Antonio, right?”

Uh… okay, that wasn’t creepy _at all_ that Mr. Wayne remembered a bunch of random kids from a party. _Not_.

“Were you looking at something on that cart?”

Dick shook his head quickly. “Oh, just window shopping. I should probably get back to Robby--”

Mr. Wayne had turned his attention to the cart. Something in his expression changed, his bright smile dying. “Oh…”

Dick felt his heartbeat pick up and he took a careful step away from the man.

Mr. Wayne looked back at Dick, the smile coming back but much smaller. “I apologize, young one. I was… caught off guard.”

 _‘Yeah, me too.’_ Dick thought to himself. 

“I was planning on attending the Grayson’s performance that night,” Mr. Wayne suddenly said. “I’m afraid office trouble held me back and by the time I was on my way…” his voice died. 

Dick froze in place, his thoughts slowing to a crawl. Mr. Wayne would have been in the audience _that_ night? He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the memories of screams and blood.

Mr. Wayne said something to him, but Dick didn’t hear it. He was too busy trying to breathe. His voice was distant and muffled, along with everything else. _Deep breaths, Dick… deep breaths…_

He was not sure how much time passed but someone lifted Dick’s shaking hands from his sides. Dick’s eyes snapped open to find Mr. Wayne, holding a folded up Haley’s Circus shirt. “I believe you should have this.”

Dick couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from the old logo, too shocked to understand how this had fallen into his possession. “Wh-What?” He managed to stammer out.

Mr. Wayne did not respond immediately. He pressed the shirt into Dick’s hands. “I think you know… Richard.”

Dick’s eyes grew wide and he backed away quickly, clutching the shirt. How did Mr. Wayne know who he was?

Mr. Wayne put his hands up in a placating manner. “I know this does not mean much but I am sorry for your loss. But I do understand it, better than most.”

And suddenly Dick remembered the very well-known story of the Wayne tragedy. He almost smacked himself. Of course, Mr. Wayne knew who he was! The man had been planning on being at the show! Dick had learned everything he could about the Waynes’ murders after his own parents' deaths, simply out of pure curiosity. He had looked into the trial and eventual murder of the killer and had learned about what happened to the orphaned child in great detail. If in his future, he was at or going to be at an event that involved two parents’ deaths and an orphaned child, Dick would definitely look into it.

So was it a little creepy that Mr. Wayne knew who he was? Yes. But did it make sense in the circumstances? Absolutely.

Dick rubbed his dry eyes, determined not to cry. “Thank you, Mr. Wayne. Really.”

“You’re welcome, Richard,” Mr. Wayne gave a small smile. “I hope our paths cross again in the future. Stay safe… or as safe as you can here in Gotham.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have a good day.” And with that, the billionaire was gone.

* * *

Tim hid under the demonstration table for twenty minutes before he deemed it safe to come out. The last thing he wanted from Dick was another conversation, reassuring that he had a spot in the family.

He didn’t know if he could smile and lie his way through one more of them.

It wasn’t his fault that social services had sent him to Roman’s and disrupted the other’s way of life. Dick had tried to make him feel welcome and wanted- and he had to a certain extent. But there was only so much you could do.

Damian, Jason, and Dick had been together for three years when Tim had come along and messed up the dynamic. Jason had made very clear his feelings about Tim when the boy had locked him out on the fire escape the second night. Tim had been too frightened to even tap on the glass and tried to make himself comfortable on the hard metal floor and railing.

Dick hadn’t been happy the next morning when he found him asleep and shivering on the balcony. True, Jason had apologized a month later, but the message had been clear. You are not wanted. It was the reason Tim usually kept his mouth shut, although he found it extremely difficult. If he didn’t say a word, then the three of them could just forget he existed.

His father had loved to hear him talk about his day, what he had learned, and his thoughts on events around him. Tim had been a very chatty boy- at least until he found his dad lying in a pool of his own blood. That had chased the chatter away. It had taken Dick about a month for Tim to speak and it had only been a single word.

Dick had been trying to find a name to call Tim when the four of them were on the streets. They had used this tradition for years, partially because they found it fun and partially because they wouldn’t trace it back to Roman. The other three had bird-related names and Dick had opened up the old bird encyclopedia and was trying to get Tim to pick one.

He had suggested names like “Parrot” or “Owl”, but Tim had rejected all of them. He had then taken the book out of Dick’s hands and turned it to a page and pointed at the bird of choice.

 _“Crow?”_ Dick had asked, clearly skeptical.

“Crow.” Tim had affirmed. That was the first word of few to come.

Tim had since read the entire bird encyclopedia a least a dozen times (it was one of the only books available to them at Roman’s) and grown to enjoy the other boys. But part of him knew he was not wanted.

The boy climbed out from under the table and straightened up. He checked the surrounding area and after he found no sign of any blue, red, or gray hoodies, he allowed himself to relax and turn his thoughts to the technology on the tables around him.

Most of it was the latest models of phones, tablets, computers, and televisions that Wayne Industries was currently selling to the public. Tim gave them half-hearted attention. If his father was still alive, he had no doubt that he would have owned most of them and had already mastered the technology and systems on each and every one. The Drake’s had been well off and, despite his mother’s tragic death when he was a little more than three, happy together. Father had encouraged his growing mind and curiosity, patiently enduring the fun facts Tim constantly spouted off, after having read them from somewhere or other.

Tim couldn’t think of a day that had gone by that he hadn’t thought of his father, at least once.

The far table was the one that beckoned him. It was that one that displayed the experimental tech Wayne Industries was hoping to one-day mass produce. There were holographic watches, hovering skateboards, smaller and faster phones, thinner laptops, you name it. And Tim absolutely drooled over each and every one of them.

He was trying to get a closer look at an experimental holographic map when a voice came from behind, “Want to see it in action?”

Tim froze in place and tried to calm his pounding heart. Holy Batman, Bruce Wayne was behind him. _Keep it together, don’t panic Tim. You got this._ He slowly turned around and looked up at his idol and let out the air in his lungs. His mouth opened but no sound came out to his horror.

Bruce chuckled lightly. “I’ll take that as a yes. Lucius!” He called out.

Tim had to take another deep breath as _the_ Lucius Fox came over. “Yes, Mister Wayne?”

“Could you demonstrate the hologram for my young friend here?” Bruce asked, gently patting Tim on the shoulder.

Tim bit on his lip and tried to take another deep breath, but found he forgot how to do so.

“Of course,” Mr. Fox smiled down at Tim and fiddled with the said device until a dim flickering blue light appeared, showing a 3D rendering of Wayne towers. “This prototype took over 150 million dollars to produce. We are working on a technique to reduce the price to be affordable to the general public, but it will take many years.” He pressed a few more buttons and the light flickered from blue to red, “It is available in seven different colors including blue, red, green, white, pink, yellow, and lavender.”

Tim watched as Lucius showed all the colors, then returned back to the standard blue. Lucius turned the projection off and gave a polite smile, “I would love to show you more, but I’m afraid I am needed elsewhere.”

“Thanks, Lucius.” Bruce shook his friends’ hand before turning back to the gaping Tim. “Any questions?”

Tim blinked once. Then twice. Then the words came gushing out in a waterfall. “How many circuits does it have? What is the battery source? Do you use lithium-ion? Or maybe solar? How can you see the hologram in broad daylight? When did you start development on it? When do you think it will be finished? Why does it cost so much? What are your plans for it? How-”

“Easy, kiddo!” Bruce laughed. “One question at a time.”

Tim blushed bright red and looked down at his shoes. “Sorry, Mr. Wayne.”

“It’s alright, kiddo. Now, what was the first question?”

Tim frowned and tried to remember, now feeling rather embarrassed. He stumbled through the next words and Mr. Wayne responded kindly. Over the next hour, Tim wandered around the tables and asked Mr. Wayne any questions he had, growing more confident with each question. Mr. Wayne answered each to the best of his abilities and would call over one of his employees when needed (which wasn’t often).

Mr. Wayne finally looked down at his watch and apologized. “I am afraid I must be off. The ladies in charge of the drawing want me to draw the winners and the final drawing is in ten minutes. But I very much enjoyed our conversation.” He pulled a very expensive-looking pen out of his pocket and handed it to the young boy. “You have quite a mind. Write down your ideas and maybe one day I will be working for you.” He paused, “I very much enjoyed our conversation.”

Tim managed not to drop the gift and speak without a stutter. “I did too, Mr. Wayne! Thank you! Thank you very much!”

“My pleasure,” Bruce shook the boy’s hand then headed off to his next destination, leaving a star-stuck boy in his wake.

Tim watched him go until the man disappeared into the crowd, the giddy feeling not quite fading.

Holy Bruce Wayne, he had just spent the last hour with _Batman_.

* * *

When Grayson had suddenly vanished, Damian tried not to be angry.

And he did a pretty good job if he did say so himself. He finished petting all of his friends and told them he’d see them all next year, then exited calmly out the back gate into the large crowd of people.

He headed towards the Tech expose after a moment of hesitation, hoping he’d find Drake. He only made it halfway there when he found the silent auction table and raffle drawing section. Drake now forgotten, Damian started to weave through the offered prizes and donations to see if there was anything useful.

Most things Damian considered lame or childish, such as the picnic basket or the life-size Barbie doll. Other things might be useful to others, but he found little interest in, like the lawnmower or the new iron. The grand prize was a new car, which he admitted was cool, but would be unable to keep it in any case. Besides, _everyone_ wanted the car.

No, one of the smaller prizes would be easier to win. As such, Damian turned his back on the flashing lights and loud-voiced announcers to the table in the far corner.

Small toys, gadgets, and five to fifty-dollar gift cards littered the table with little to no organization. The cooking utensils were next to the cheap earbuds which were next to the official Wayne Enterprises bumper sticker. _Nice_.

Damian ignored the physical prizes (like most people) and headed straight to the gift cards. They had fancy restaurants, toy stores, general stores, amusement parks, you name it. The name of the local theater drew his attention and thoughts.

A little over a year ago, Grayson had talked about wanting to take their little ‘family’ to the movies. He, himself, had never gone as a child due to a tight rehearsal and traveling schedule. Todd had also never had the experience since most of his parent’s money went towards their various addictions. And Damian… well, there was no explanation needed for him. No one had ever offered to take him to such a place. When Drake had arrived, Grayson’s attention had diverted towards their mentally scarred new arrival and the subject had dropped.

But Damian had never forgotten it.

He fingered his three little tickets for several minutes. The odds were against him- most people devoted at least ten tickets for a chance of winning and there were hundreds of attendees. Who knew how many people wanted the same thing as him. He would have better luck throwing his lot in with the stupid bumper sticker. And if he wasted his tickets on this, he wouldn’t have anything to get lunch or a snack. Or get back in the petting zoo.

Damian looked at the table, then back towards the animals. Table, animals, table, animals, table, animals, card, animals, movies, animals- ugh!

Before he changed his mind, he marched up to the lady at the table and threw his tickets down. “Three for the movie theater gift card… please.” Grayson had always stressed the importance of being polite and Damian had found people were kinder and easier to manipulate if you spoke as such.

“Name?”

“Damian.”

The woman scribbled something down then looked back at him. “...and your last name?”

Damian bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed down the surge of emotions that swirled up. Most people had a second name. It gave them an identity- like where their ancestors had originated, or their family’s occupation, if they had impacted history in a meaningful way, what or who you were meant to live up to.

All he had was ‘Damian’. _Devil_. What kind of person would name their child that? Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

The woman was still waiting, her fingers tapping impatiently. Apparently, manners had no effect on her. “It’s a simple question.”

“... Bird.”

She scribbled down the name and took his tickets, writing a number on the back of each then dropped them in the jar for the gift card. Damian watched them flutter then vanish inside.

“Your number is 0906.”

Damian took the slip of paper without a word and retreated to the folding chairs in the center of the square. The stage was where the winning numbers would be read in a few hours. Now all that was left to do was wait. Something he had a lot of practice in. He sat down in the front row, pressed his feet into the ground, leaned forward to rest his chin on his hands, and closed his eyes.

_Deep breath in, deep breath out, deep breath in, deep breath out…_

Very, very slowly, Damian’s senses sharpened and branched out. He could feel the vibrations of the ground as children ran to the next game or activity and adults hurried after them. Snippets of nearby conversations filtered through his ears as they moved in and out of earshot.

_“...bank will be closing soon…”_

_“...and she said that her boyfriend…”_

_“...illy! Stay with mommy!...”_

_“...what a piece of…”_

The wind carried smells of popcorn and cotton candy to him. Caramel corn and blue razzberry to be exact. Coming from a vendor cart about ten feet to his right. He heard the vendor call out his prices only a few moments later.

_Breathe in, breathe out…_

Someone over to his right was arguing with his wife. Based on the conversation and the especially hard vibrations Damian assumed the man had been caught indulging in his unhealthy eating habits. Again.

_In… out…_

Behind him, someone was breathing hard and the smell of sweat and a tint of blood hit Damian’s nostrils. Track runner who had entered the yearly track and field event. Must have tripped and scraped his hands and knees. He had still gotten back up and continued the race, and Damian could respect that. The man’s heart still pounded in his chest from the exertion.

_In… ou-_

_“_ _Altarkiz_ _!” the sound of someone getting hit echoed out and a small voice cried out in pain. There was silence then a woman’s voice came clear and cold, “_ _Laqad ahbattani_ _.”_

Damian’s eyes flew open and the spell was broken. His breathing was heavy, his heart was pounding and something slid down his cheek. One of his shaking hands gently touched it and he suddenly realized it was a tear. Not a full-out cry, just one tear. He quickly wiped it away and leaned back in his chair, his thoughts racing.

His body was shaking and his cheek stung as if the tear had been much larger and burned his skin. He had no idea how much time had passed since he had sat down, but he knew the sun had moved quite a bit and the inside of his jacket was soaked in sweat from the heat. Damian swung his backpack off his shoulders and slid the drawstring apart. He tried to screw the lid off of his water bottle, but his fingers kept slipping. Damian frowned and forced his hands to be steady and finally removed the plastic cap. The water was warm, but it calmed him down tremendously. By the time he had downed half of the contents, the shaking had stopped and his heart rate returned to normal. He returned the water to his bag.

With his mind now clear he could now properly evaluate a few things.

Like, _what the_ **_heck_ ** _just happened?_

A woman’s voice rang out and Damian actually flinched, his head snapping up. She was standing at the microphone and the speaker was only a few yards in front of him, making it seem much too loud.

**_“The winners for the raffle will be announced in five minutes! All participants please report to the main stage for the results!”_ **

Damian rubbed his head. Right. He had been waiting for the raffle announcement when… _that_ happened.

A crowd had gathered at some point when Damian had been… meditating? That didn’t seem right. Meditation was when you cleared your mind of all distractions and turned your thoughts inward. This had been the opposite. It was more… focusing on the distractions and forgetting about yourself. And yes, he did this all the time when he was out in the city but it had never been… like that.

 _“Focus!”_ the voice had yelled. Damian frowned. No, she had yelled something else. What was the word again? It hadn’t been English, whatever it was.

Another screech came out of the speakers, making him flinch again. **_“Only two minutes until the drawing winners are announced by Mr. Bruce Wayne!”_ **

Ugh. Why did he choose to enter this stupid drawing again? He couldn’t think!

For a family outing… right. Because he decided to do something “nice" for his “pretend family". What had he been thinking?

**_“One minute!”_ **

_Sweet_ **_Gotham_ ** _, can't they just start the stupid drawing already?_

Damian closed his eyes and leaned back further in his chair. He’d have to examine the events of the day at another time. There was too much going on at the moment that needed his attention. He slouched down in the hard metal chair when everyone else began to clap and cheer as Mr. Wayne came onto the stage waving and smiling like he was the most important person in the room-

 _Oh, wait._ He thought he was. Damian rolled his eyes and ignored the opening remarks and expressions of gratitude to those who made this event possible.

Finally, the winners began to be read off. They started with the small prizes and slowly built to the big one, which meant Damian only had to wait about ten minutes before the gift card was read off.

“The local Gotham theater gift card at a value of twenty-five dollars….1247.”

So much for that lame idea. Damian slouched in his chair even farther. Maybe it would have been better if he had just tried to steal the card. That’s what Todd would have done. But then Grayson would have asked questions and investigated how Damian had gotten the card. With some help from Drake, he would have been discovered and then would have had to return the prize and _apologize._

And Damian _hated_ apologizing.

So, he sulked in his chair as the rest of the numbers were read. He sulked as everyone in the area broke away to either collect their prize or head back to whatever game they had abandoned or just go home. He sulked for quite some time before someone sat down beside him. He didn’t give them any thought until they had the nerve to speak to him.

“Something wrong, son?”

Damian frowned, flicking his gaze to the strange- _ah, heck no!_

Bruce Wayne looked concerned, which Damian thought the look didn’t suit him. And he hated sympathy. Damian quickly straightened up and wiped any sort of depressing expression from his face. “No.”

“... Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Damian chopped out, glaring at the man. _Leave me alone, I don’t need your sympathy._

“Were you hoping to win something?” Wayne pressed.

Damian didn’t answer, narrowing his eyes even more. Wayne must have taken that as a yes. “I understand being disappointed.”

“ _Yeah. Right._ ” Damian stood to his feet and began to storm away. 

Wayne was right behind him. “I’m sorry you did not win what you wanted.”

“Do you want me to get security’s attention?” Damian whirled around and crossed his arms. “Because I can. Very quickly.”

Bruce put his hands up in a gesture of surrender, taking a few steps back to really sell the point. “Sorry. I hope the rest of your day goes better.” Then he walked away. 

Grayson found him a short time later and he sputtered off a thousand apologies about leaving him. Damian made a halfhearted comment about being used to it then turned his attention to the approaching figures of Drake and Todd.

Drake was holding a pen in one hand and a red notepad in the other that he must have won from a game or something. Todd looked less ticked off at the world than usual and handed him a cheap stuffed bird without a word. Damian took it in equal silence, more than used to the silent words exchanged between them. 

The four of them left the fairgrounds a short time later in mostly high spirits, which quickly rubbed off on Damian. He might have lost the card, but at least he wasn’t alone.

None of them mentioned their interactions with a certain billionaire to the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, SO--
> 
> There is a ton to unpack here and I can't tell you everything but here is what I will break down:  
> 1\. Bruce was not stalking them to the fair. He was going to be there because it gets attacked every year. He just happens to run into Jason and after that, he keeps an eye out for the rest of them. This was basically him trying to learn more about the kid's situation and learn he did.  
> 2\. Yeah, I know games are rigged on purpose and stuff so Bruce firing the guy for it is a little far-fetched but it was the first thing I thought of and Jason needs a whistle.  
> 3\. Tim knows Bruce Wayne is Batman. How? You'll have to wait and see. Has he told anyone else? Nope!  
> 4\. So I have finally decided that Damian is a very lightly powered meta. And I mean LIGHTLY powered. His "powers" are enhanced senses and reflexes, but it's mostly in short bursts and he has to be really, really, really focused. Also, that weird "flashback" was him falling asleep and dreaming, but it was one of those "half-awake, half-asleep" kind of thing. Aka: those are Damian's normal dreams that he really does not remember when he wakes up.  
> If y'all have any questions, feel free to yell at me at Tumblr (@Oceanera12) or ask in the comments. If I can answer it without spoiling anything, I will.
> 
> Weekly question time!
> 
> Someone last week made a comment about the new Batman movie and I was going to wait before doing this question, but... why not? So what do y'all think about the new movie coming out, just from what you've seen and heard? 
> 
> I... have really mixed feelings? On one hand, they look like they are going to change a few things about Bats, which I am all about "fresh takes" on a character. On the other hand... they are going to change a few things about Bats. Bruce looks like a frickin emo, which is fine but I've never seen him like that in my head? And honestly, I'm pretty sure Hollywood is going to throw his "no-killing rule" out the window. So I don't hate the new movie idea but I also don't love it? Then again, I only watched two of the three Batman movies in the Dark Knight trilogy. I was BORED half-way through the second one and was just waiting for Harvey Dent to lose his kriffing mind and for Joker to blow up a hospital. So... yeah, I didn't watch the third one. Didn't have a desire. *shrugs* But to each their own, right?


	9. On Jay Bird Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason plus the Batmobile plus an alley equals just what you think it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So last week I updated on a Thursday because I thought it was a Friday? So y'all got an early update last time. You're welcome.
> 
> Also, I totally forgot to mention last week that I MADE A THING. Well, I made a cover for the story. You can see it in my little profile picture and I'll post it on my Tumblr page.
> 
> Also, also: This is kind of a random rant so go ahead and skip but is anyone else in shock/confused by the fact that CW's Superman and Lois show looks... good? Like, I keep watching clips and am just CONFUSED but it's a good kind of confused and I'm wondering if they'll be able to keep it up. ... It also might have inspired some changes to Clark in The Birds outline sooooooooooooooooooooooooo.... Look forward to that.
> 
> Anyway: let's get to Jason stealing off the Batmobile, shall we?

Jason jumped down from the fire escape onto the hard concrete below. It wasn’t the usual fire escape he was used to. No, that particular window was on the other side of town. The puddle he landed in sloshed only enough to soak the bottom of his jeans, but he didn’t mind. In Gotham, you were usually wet or damp, especially at night.

And the night was what he liked best.

He walked down the alleyway, his eyes scanning for any movement or light in any shape or form. The police shouldn’t be around this area right now unless some idiot decided to try and rob a convenience store. That meant he had time to window-shop.

Window-shopping to Jason wasn’t just about walking down the streets and looking in the shops. It was also about looking into the cars, people’s purses, _and_ the stores. Geez, he wasn’t that boring.

But none of the cars looked worth rooting through, the shops were run-down and family-run (which meant no stealing from in Jason’s book), and the people were pretty pathetic. He took off a man’s ten-dollar watch just for the pure fun of it, then slipped it back on a few seconds later without him even noticing it was gone. One lady dropped her purse and Jason helped her pick up the spilled contents, pocketing a few mints and sticks of gum in the process. Other than that, it was a slow night.

Jason hated slow nights. This one in particular was quite dismal. Few activities could distract Jason from the events of a bad day. Reading was one. Stealing was the other. For the first time in a long time, Jason was not in the mood to read. He needed to break something. He needed to punch something if only to get punched back because Gotham knew he deserved it.

September meant school. School meant Roman showing up a week late at their bedroom door and throwing the home school in their general direction. And then he left.

Now don’t get Jason wrong: he liked school. But there is a difference between school and “home school”. Sure, being locked in a room for several hours of the day was not exactly fun-- but it wasn’t like he didn’t live like that anyway. And those few years of public school he had participated in were not inherently bad. In fact, if he had the option he would do public over the “home-schooling” program any day. 

Mainly because _this_ wouldn’t happen.

Dick was not a bad teacher. The kid was smart and patient with the brothers and made sure they all kept up as best they could with the current grade level. Most of his time was spent with Damian. The kid had only attended public school for a few months in Kindergarten. Then Roman voted for “home school” as it was less time commitment for him. And so Damian learned most of his reading and writing skills from golden circus boy.

And Jason, in a rare display of “actual parenting” tried to help when he could. Hence, the problem.

Damian had been struggling with his math problems and Dick had been trying to help him but the kid just couldn’t understand it. After the tenth time, Jason attempted to explain it in a different way than he thought was easier to understand. Dick disagreed. Damian was still confused. Jason tried to explain again, but Dick interrupted. The two started arguing and things escalated quickly from there.

Jason doesn’t remember everything he said but he does know he said some insult about growing up in a circus. Very bad. Dick, in turn, had retaliated with a comment about effects Jason might have from his parent’s lifestyles-- which had _definitely_ hurt more than he had let on. But even with that insult, that did not excuse Jason’s behavior.

He was no stranger to racial slurs and insults. It came as part of the territory of growing up as a Crime Ally kid. Maybe that was why it was easy to yell them in Dick’s face.

As soon as they left his mouth, Jason had regretted them. The look on Dick’s face alone made him feel like someone had stabbed him in the chest. Damian had grabbed the nearest object (the home-school booklet) and thrown it at Jason, yelling his own insults that involved quite a bit of colorful language. Tim, who had been trying to play a hesitant mediator, now stood in shock, his hands over his mouth and eyes wide. Any kind of “middle ground” had been shattered and Jason knew what side Tim would be standing on. Correction: _should_ be standing on.

Then Jason had left, without a word.

It was the first time in five years Jason had lost it that bad. Yes, he was angry. But that rage-- that burning ball of fire that consumed all sense and thought had only been felt towards one person in his life. 

Willis was many things. A father was not one of them, no matter what the birth certificate said. One thing Jason will never forget was screaming insults and curses at his old man who was being hauled away by the cops, as his Mom was being looked at by a paramedic. Jason would have been punching and kicking the man if the cops hadn’t stopped him.

Jason never knew who called the cops and he never knew why they came that night. All he knew was Willis hadn’t had time to hide the recent evidence from his dealings with Two-Face. And for once the cops decided it was worth a trip to the station. Of course, the cops hadn’t found his Mom’s stash so maybe they had just been bored.

That had been the last night Jason saw Willis in something that wasn’t an orange jumpsuit. It was a good memory.

But sometimes, Jason missed the days of just punching or hitting when something wasn’t “right”. Not that he liked to get beat up, per se. But winning an argument with a solid punch was a lot easier to do than using words. Words had to be carefully crafted in just the right way that the opponent couldn’t talk their way out of it.

Of course, Dick refused to punch him.

Once, before he knew that Dick wouldn’t hit back, Jason had given him a good one to the jaw. The kid had hit the wall and gone down faster than Jason could blink. Jason waited for him to get up and hit back only for Dick to rub his jaw, look up with shining eyes, and just _stare_ at him.

Still gave him the chills when he thought about it. Jason resolved to never hit Dick again. (no way he was going to beat up someone who wouldn’t (or couldn’t) fight back. He would _not_ be Willis)

Jason was snapped out of his thoughts by a distant siren. He ducked into a nearby alley. The police car sped past to Gotham-knew-where. Jason counted to thirty before returning to the main street. He let out a heavy sigh and slid a hand down his face.

 _Home-schooling?_ Had he seriously blown up about _math_?

No… that had never been what it was about. Sure, that had been the words exchanged and by all appearances, it would always look like an argument over a math problem.  
But the actual argument had been laced through emphasized words and unspoken concerns.

Jason had caught Dick jumping between a few six-story buildings two nights ago. He had confronted him about it later that evening, but Dick had given the same sorry excuses he always did. And Jason was sick of them. Then Dick had to go and bring up a car Jason had taken for a joy-ride the previous night. The argument got worse and the two were whispering shouting outside the window for only a few minutes. Then Tim interrupted and the argument had been left hanging. It was easy enough to transition into, with two different ideas of how something should be handled to find the solution to a problem.

Jason settled down on a nearby bus bench. He walked enough for now. Maybe he’d find an interesting target through people watching. Or maybe he’d just sleep there. Not the most comfortable position, but he’d been in worse. Jason laid his head back and closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to wander again.

He’d left the apartment around two pm. The time was now almost ten pm and Jason wasn’t planning on returning until at least four in the morning.

He had to apologize to Dick. Yeah, he was being an idiot, and yeah, he shouldn’t be jumping off buildings at heights that can kill most people, but Jason shouldn’t have called him… _that_. It didn’t matter what Dick had done, he had no right to say something like that.

But he’d have to be careful how he worded the apology. Didn’t want to say something that made Dick think he was okay with his parkour adventures. Maybe he should give him a peace offering of some kind, like money for winter, or go buy some good, filling food.

Nah, Dick would know that he stole it, and then that would launch another argument. And that was the last thing Jason wanted.

Jason’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of screeching tires. He looked up just in time to see the Batmobile squeal down the street. To his shock (and his pleasure) the car swung into a nearby alleyway then came to an abrupt stop. A black blur shot out of the cabin and into the sky, disappearing into the darkness.

 _Batman_.

Jason started to count. Had the Bat spotted him? It certainly did not appear that way as no shadowy figure floated in his direction. If anything, Jason was pretty positive the man had shot off in the exact opposite way. Even if he had, there was no way the Bat had left his vehicle in such a vulnerable area of town… right?

His eyes scanned the vehicle from the distance, trying to make out exactly what model car it was. Custom made. Made sense, Jason supposed, Batman made all of his other gadgets, why not the car?

_50, 51, 52…_

Jason slowly stood to his feet and began to make his way over, triple checking the corners and keeping his eyes open for any movement. The car cabin would be most likely locked and protected with some sort of anti-theft hardware-- not that he wanted to steal it, per se. More like get a better look at it.

_102, 103, 104…_

He finally arrived at the alley and did a quick scan of the rooftops. No shadowy figures that he could see. Only the musky sky and distant twinkling signs. The sky was just gray clouds, blocking any semblance of the moon or any star that attempted to break through Gotham’s light pollution.

_127, 128, 129..._

Cautiously, Jason started walking around the vehicle. It looked even cooler up close. Black paint, just touched up, sleek design. He was careful not to make physical contact. Never knew if it had a car alarm. Or traps. Batman definitely bobby trapped his own car, right? If he didn’t, Jason would be extremely disappointed.

_165, 166, 167…_

The windows were tinted which made it impossible to see in. That just made Jason more curious. He was now at the front of the car and there he stood, hands on his hips, just staring at it. He noted the lack of a hood ornament and was a bit disappointed. The Bat would never have missed it and Jason could have definitely walked off with it for a pretty penny. Simple, clean, and nothing actually important to the car.

_198, 199, 200._

Batman should have had a hood ornament.

Jason swung his backpack off his shoulders and to his feet. He dug around for a moment before grasping his trusty tire iron and a wrench. Both were rusty and the wrench had been bent out of shape when he found it in the dumpster, but with a little persuasion, he had gotten it back to fairly the right shape.

Most people worried about the car being stolen. And while Jason had hijacked a few rides in his life, his goal on most (and this particular) evening were the tires. Specifically, the bat-insignia hubcaps because _ego much_?

In Jason’s defense, most tires he never actually took. Wing would never allow it and promptly flipped every time he found one of the tires shoved behind the dumpster. Jason mostly took them off and left them under the car. Sometimes, for the fun of it, he threw them in the trunk. The poor owners would come back and freak out that someone had not only vandalized their car but had broken into it. The police had gotten enough of the calls they knew there was nothing to worry about, but try telling a panicked woman that. 

Jason chuckled to himself, replacing the backpack on his back and heading over to the front right tire.

_‘Wonder if the Bat made them tougher to crack….’_

* * *

When he found Jason trying to pick apart his car, Batman’s first instinct was to swoop in and demand him to cease. He was about to do so when Jason suddenly threw his wrench aside with a curse. The small distraction allowed Batman’s mind to move to his second idea.

_Watch him._

And so, he did. Batman remained crouched on a fire escape for a good ten minutes as Jason tried to pull the fourth and final hubcap off his tire. The kid was good, he’d give him that. How many other people could get the hubcaps off a custom car? And how many people were stupid enough to do such a thing?

To add to the feat, at least one of the tires had been loosened from the car. Its bolts laid haphazardly spread across the asphalt and it looked like Jason had tried to pull it off, before giving up. Good thing too. Nothing short of Superman or the special button in the cap would pop that tire free. (Batman had learned the hard way a few years ago that nice cars attracted vandalism, no matter who they belonged to).

Jason was now having trouble with the last hubcap, trying to pry it off by bending it back this way and that way. Rather than looking frustrated, however, Jason looked rather excited at the turn of events.

Bruce couldn’t help but smile when Jason slung his bag off again and began digging around for a new tool of sorts. That was when Batman decided it was time to intervene. He did have a job to do that did not involve small children. He glided down as quietly as he could, touching down with barely a thump.

Jason had been in the zone when he felt the hand grab his shoulder. He swung the tire iron around and tried to hit whoever held him, but the man caught it, then pulled it out of his hand. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Uh oh. He’d forgotten whose car this was. 

Jason whirled to his feet and took a step back. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at his feet. “Uh… testing the security?” _Yeah, right, like the Bat would believe a lie like that._

Batman let him go and stepped back a few feet. He didn’t look angry, his face a passive mask. He was still holding the tire iron in his right hand. It hung there, but Jason couldn’t quite tear his eyes from it. Batman did not sound too angry and the question was definitely an odd one. “Did you find it lacking?”

 _O-kay…_ What do you say to that? “...No?” Jason replied, a bit hesitant. The tire iron was swinging ever so gently. It barely moved, but it still held Jason’s full attention.

“I didn’t think so.” The freaking Bat then _chuckled_. As if this situation couldn’t get any weirder. Jason managed to rip his gaze up to the mask. They snapped back immediately when Batman shifted in his stance. 

The iron lifted an inch.

Despite his best efforts, Jason moved. He took a step back, then another, then another pressing himself against the alley wall and squeezing his eyes shut. His breath picked up as the nightmares flared to the front of his mind.

He couldn’t run. That was never an option. Running was only a short reprieve before the blows would come. Hard, merciless, driving Jason into a ball on the ground that could only bite his lip and keep the noise to a minimum.

He wouldn’t cry. He _wouldn’t_. Willis hated tears and he’d only make the punishment worse. He could cry when it was over. When Willis decided enough was enough and left him with the bruises and blood. Then he’d crawl to the bathroom (hopefully Mom wasn’t there and had picked tonight to pass out in the bedroom) and lock the door. If she was, then he’d just have to climb out the window and stubble to the roof.

Someone was talking. They sounded worried. “--breathe, Jay Bird, I need you to _breathe--_ ”

Jason pressed himself even further against the wall. He was breathing-- albeit a bit fast but hey, he didn’t know if these breaths would be his last. Then again, Bats did have a reputation for not killing so there could be some comfort out of that.

“That’s it, Jay. In… out… in…”

There still hadn’t been a punch. Or a tire iron swung.

Jason grit his teeth. “Just get it over with,” he hissed, eyes still squeezed shut and body still tense and ready for the pain that was sure to come.

The steady voice telling him to breathe stopped. Good. Jason could handle many things, hearing “angels” was not one of them.

Batman’s grovel rang out, loud and tight. “What ?”

Jason flinched. He silently cursed his show of weakness to the depths of Gotham’s underworld. Maybe he could cover it up. “I tried to steal off your car. There’s no freaking way I can outrun a Bat so just swing already. I need to be home before the sun’s up.” Not Jason’s best comeback but at least it was something.

There was silence again. “... _what_?” Jason couldn’t quite place that tone. It was mostly flat but there was a hint of something. Maybe surprise, but that couldn’t be right. Batman was never surprised.

Waiting for an impending beating was a lot worse than Jason thought it would be. He just wanted to get it over with, was that too much to ask? “That’s what you do, right? Beat up the bad guys? Get it over with!”

“You want me to… _hit you_?” Batman sounded… offended.

Jason flinched again, his eyes squeezing even tighter together. Of course, Batman didn’t _hit_ car thieves. He probably hung them by their ankles from the lamp posts, _then_ used them as a punching bag. _Idiot_! He felt a hand on his shoulder and was surprised to actually feel slightly relieved. Maybe getting beat up by the Bat would be a good way to make it up to Dick for his stupid mistake.

You can imagine his surprise when the soft voice returned. “Oh, _Jason…_ ” 

Jason frowned. He finally opened his eyes to find Batman kneeling in front of him on one knee, a hand on Jason’s shoulder. He was frowning but… it was sad. Not an angry scowl. And that same soothing tone that told him to breathe earlier was coming, not from a hallucination, but from the _freaking_ Bat. “ _Jason, I’m…_ I’m not going to hit you.”

“Why… why not?” Jason felt confused. Very confused. “I’m a criminal, I-”

“You are _not_ a criminal,” Batman growled in his familiar grovel and Jason flinched again. He really needed to work on that.

Batman’s voice softened again. “You’re just _a kid_. A kid who is a little lost and a little confused.” He gripped Jason’s shoulder a little tighter, “I’m not angry at your curiosity. I’m disappointed in your actions, but not angry.”

Jason stared back, eyes wide and confused. He didn’t like confusion. He never had and never would. So he did what he did with any emotion he didn’t know how to handle or want to handle. He turned it into anger. 

Jason shoved Batman away as best he could. “You’re _lying_.”

“Jason--”

“I’ve broken more laws than I can count. I should be in juvie.” It might not be a good idea to tell that to a vigilante but if Bats didn’t think he deserved a beating, then he would gladly clear that up. “I steal, I hurt people, I damage public and private property, I have broken into buildings and houses, some of them more than once--”

“ _Jason-_ ”

“I’m a criminal. You’re the hero. So do your _frickin’_ **_job_**.”

Batman didn’t move. He just sat and stared at Jason like he was worth something.

And Jason had no idea what to do about it.

Bats finally spoke. It was quiet and gentle. “Jason… I’m not going to hurt you.” He reached a hand out, but it was open and flat. Empty of any kind of deceit or harm.

It was only then Jason saw the tire iron had been abandoned by the Batmobile.

“Stop. Just… _stop_.” Jason took a step away. That step turned into another, then another. The distance between them increased bit by bit. 

Batman didn’t move to stop Jason. He stayed still, hand still outstretched like it was an actual option for Jason. 

And with that final thought, Jason spun on his heels and ran, leaving his bag on the ground by the Batmobile without a second thought. He ran and ran as fast as he could, half-waiting half-expecting the Bat to suddenly swoop down with that righteous fury he was known for.

He never did.

Running had never been an option with Willis.

* * *

The apartment was dark when Jason returned. He climbed into bed as quietly as he could and slept until noon. He was in no mood to speak to Dick, especially as he still had no idea what he was going to say to him.

Dick had left with both Damian and Tim earlier in the morning, probably to get some more bottles for quarters. They’d probably be back by three, which left some time for Jason to sort together some kind of apology.

He slowly rolled over in bed to face the room instead of the wall. Someone had left him a bag of dry cereal on the edge of his bed. Roman must have remembered to bring it by this morning. The food was dry and tasted stale, but it was better than nothing. Jason jumped down from his top bunk and hit the ground with a thump. He glanced around the small room for something to do.

Jason almost choked on his food at the sight of his backpack he had definitely left with Batman last night. And yet, there it was on the floor, right beside the window. Which meant Batman now knew where they lived. That or Jason had led the man to his brothers. Part of him really wanted to tear his hair out, another part of him wanted to punch the wall. Either option would not help the situation, but it might help Jason feel better.

After he calmed down and got his air back, Jason approached the bag.

Maybe it was booby-trapped and would blow up the moment he touched it. If that was the case, then now was the best time to find out. No annoying brothers to get caught up in the carnage of Jason’s mistakes.

The zippers were still pulled to the side, on the left, which made him think Bats hadn’t gone through his bag or maybe he was just good at covering his tracks. He carefully poked at the bag, checking for any oddities in the appearance. It did look a little… bigger. So the bomb seemed like a good bet.

Jason took a deep breath and picked it up. Yep. Definitely heavier. He slowly zipped the back pocket open and waited. Nothing happened. He slowly peeled the pocket open to reveal--

_Holy Gotham._

The hub cap was even shiner in daylight, with the bat insignia on the side clear and distinguishable. His hand hovered over it for a moment before snatching it out of the bag. Nothing happened so maybe the booby trap thing was a bit of a leap of the imagination but hey. Jason flipped the cap over and found a piece of paper taped to the back. It was small, folded twice, and Jason’s curiosity got the better of him.

Jason carefully peeled it off and flipped it open. The handwriting was neat and printed. Something that was a little more refined than Jason expected from a man who ran around in a Bat costume but hey. It was Gotham. Nothing ever was as it appeared.

The note was short and started with a simple, _“Jason.”_

Wait just a second, since when did Batman know his _name_? Jason frowned, thinking back to the previous night. And crap, Batman had called him Jason several times last night which probably meant Bats did not have to follow him home. He probably already knew where to go.

With that happy thought, Jason scanned the note. Once, then twice before stuffing it back into the pack, along with the hubcap.

If Jason hurried, he could make it to a nearby pawnshop and sell the cap in time to return with a nice little surprise for Golden Boy. The money would definitely come in handy as winter was approaching and Dick had been talking about the need for warmer coats. The perfect apology present-- especially since it technically wasn’t stolen.

* * *

_Jason,_

_A true criminal focuses fully on themselves, with little thought of how it hurts the people around them. Their only focus is on their next fix, their next heist, their next score, their next victim._

_From what I’ve seen, that is nowhere close to who you are._

_B_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY-- built up Jason a bit, so yay! Points of the week include:
> 
> 1\. I debated for a really long time if I wanted to actually put what Jason said to Dick in the story but decided against it. I have an idea of what it was, y'all probably have some idea of what it might have been so just assume that yes, Jason said something he regrets. Of course, Dick is going to forgive him and Jason is going to apologize and Jason will NEVER say things like that again so lesson learned all around. Slurs are not okay, people!
> 
> 2\. So I'm sure someone will comment and say something about Jason not having problems beating up anyone else and why isn't he going to try and fight back with Bats? Simple explanation: Willis was the "powerful" figure in Jason's life. He was this untouchable person that Jason had no hope in overpowering. Since Willis is now in prison, Jason has been able to break free of that mindset... mostly. I mean, he's seen Batman beat up Penquin's and Two-Face's goons so all those "hopeless to fight back" emotions have been more or less, transferred over to Batman. That's the best way I can describe it and of course, Bruce isn't going to hit Jason, but Jason doesn't know that so yeah.
> 
> 3\. Okay, so: Batman's voice. As much as I hate the "gravelly" voice as an intimidation tactic, it works for Bats. But it also works nicely as a whole "hiding your secret identity thing" but come on. Bruce is not going to use that voice when he's comforting a small child. So Bruce drops the gravel completely and maybe if Jason hadn't been so terrified he might have recognized a certain Billionaire's voice but who knows?
> 
> 4\. Bruce has no idea how to parent. Enabling your child's thieving habits is NOT how you parent, Bruce.
> 
> This week's question involves Jason because of the obvious. So!  
> Do y'all think Jason should be an "Outlaw" (basically the way most DC writers write him with the whole, 'estranged from the Bats, does a lot of murdering, keeps mostly to himself, and just does what he thinks is best no matter what') or should stick closer to the "hero" path (better relations with the Batfamily, less murdering, has a team or at least people he calls, and has some restraint).  
> Seeing as you are reading this, I'm assuming the latter, but hey. What do I know? I personally just want the entire family to get along. Yeah, they can have fights and spats and I don't think I can imagine Jason being a full-blown "hero" ever, but... (BRUCE HE IS YOUR SON, GO TALK TO THE BOY.)
> 
> On a semi-separate note, I really like to listen to music when writing certain characters. And LET ME TELL YA I got a lot of songs for my boy Jason Todd. And I want to share a few of them with y'all because they're amazing and I cannot get over it. The three I want to share are all by the same artist, Citizen Soldier (they are more of a harder rock just so you know). I also really like this band because their songs usually focus on some kind of stance on mental and emotional health. So they can be a little triggering for some people so listen with some caution if one of the following is a bit unsettling for you. Also, there are a few biblical curses, but they aren't overly used. "My LIttle Secret" is about victim shaming (and how it can affect the victims in very bad ways). "Buried Alive" can be applied to a variety of mental disorders including Anxiety, Depression, Schizophrenia, PTSD, OCD. The song leaves it up to interpretation. And their latest song, "Hallelujah (I'm Not Dead)" is more a victorious song over a situation that could have killed you. ((When I tell you I SCREAMED when I first heard this because the literal first line is "Flatline, a breath away, I was born with one foot in the grave." Me:... JASON?!?))
> 
> Obviously, music is up to interpretation, but all three of these songs make me think of Jason Todd (in general). Also, this band is really good and I really appreciate the messages they try and put into their music in an effort to spread the word about some pretty serious subjects. So maybe give them a listen, if you want?
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all have a good week and enjoyed the chapter. Cannot wait to see your reactions to Bruce and Jason.


	10. Bird Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sick-fic smashed into one chapter that I wrote in less than a week.  
> I'm so tired...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, STORYTIME:
> 
> Last week, I updated this fic and was like, "Great, now it's time to start editing the next chapter." Because that's what I do, right? So I go and read the next chapter.
> 
> And I hate it. It was only about three to four pages long, it felt rushed and there really wasn't any meat to it. So I think, "Okay, time to add a little more to it so that I like it."
> 
> Yeah, well that "little more" turned into deleting the whole thing, coming up with a new plotline, and typing up 20 NEW PAGES. And I wrote it in less than a week. So no, I am not extremely confident in this chapter so please be kind? Please?

It started with a cough.

Mid-September, Friday evening. Dick had been checking Damian’s math problems for mistakes when he heard a rather loud and rough-sounding cough from behind. He glanced over his shoulder to find Tim, mouth buried in his elbow and coughing. “You okay, Tim?”

Tim held up a finger in a ‘wait a second’ gesture. He coughed some more than cleared his throat, once, twice. “Dry spot. I’m fine.” He gave a tight smile and turned back to his own math book.

Dick watched him for a moment before determining it was nothing to worry about and went back to Damian’s worksheet.

An hour or so later, Dick left the apartment to grab some hotdogs from the stand in the park. The chilly weather would soon chase the vendors away and there was nothing like a weekend treat. Especially after a (mostly successful) first week of school. The vendor was a favorite of Jason’s and what better way for Dick to “officially” bury the… unpleasant incident. Dick wasn’t sure if Jason had been one hundred percent honest when he handed Dick the “legally acquired” fifty dollars in cash. But he had seemed honest and Dick had experienced enough of Jason’s “apologies” to know he was genuine.

A hot dog from his favorite stand was the perfect way to tell Jason he was forgiven in Jason’s silent language.

So Dick returned with a dinner of various topped hot dogs, with the money coming from Jason’s apology. Jason and Damian had scarfed their dinner down with cheerful smiles and laughs. Jason even shared a smile with Dick, the silent message received and appreciated.

Tim hardly touched the food. He took a bite, maybe two, before giving half of his dinner to Damian and the other half to Jason and Dick. “I’m not really that hungry,” Tim explained. “But thanks, Wing. It was really good.”

Did Dick believe the excuse? Not really. Did he press for Tim to tell him what was bugging him? 

Nope.

Tim always kept his cards close to his chest. Whenever Dick or Jason pressed, Tim just withdrew more. Thus, Dick found the best approach was to watch and wait. He did not have to wait long as Dick woke up to the sound of a coughing fit. This one sounded worse.

Dick crawled down from his bed to the ground floor. Tim had tried to keep the coughing down by pressing his head into his pillow. But there was only so much coughing one could do before someone else noticed. While Tim caught his breath, Dick grabbed Tim’s water bottle and filled it in the bathroom.

“Here,” Dick whispered as quietly as he could. No need to wake anyone else up… if they weren’t already up. “Drink up.”

Tim knew better than to argue and did as he was told. While he sipped at the water, Dick pressed a hand to Tim’s forehead. It was warm, but nothing to be concerned about. Yet. “Is your throat scratchy or sore?”

“No,” Tim mumbled. “It’s just a cough. I’m fine.”

“Headache?”

“No.”

“Do your limbs feel heavy or feel pain anywhere?”

“Dick, it’s just a cough. I’m  _ fine _ ." 

Dick frowned. “Are you sure?”

“ _ Yes _ . Now go back to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” Tim yawned and laid back down. 

Dick hesitated, but tucked the blanket around Tim and mumbled a “Goodnight,” then returned to his bunk.

So maybe he was a bit concerned when one of his brothers got sick. But it wasn’t like anyone else cared. Roman barely gave them enough food, let alone cared if they had a cough. And Tim deserved someone who cared. 

They all did.

* * *

Tim woke up in a coughing fit. He wasn’t proud of it, but there was very little he could do that would stop the hacks that shook his body. Someone (probably Dick) helped Tim sit up and pressed his water bottle into his hands.

“Deep breaths, Tim,” Dick told him.

Tim managed to nod and take a few sips of water. He tried to open his eyes but slammed them back shut almost immediately at the light. His head felt stuffed and he could feel the beginning of a headache start to form. Not to mention the fact that his chest was starting to ache from all the coughing.

“Tim?” Dick sounded worried.

“M’ fine…” he rasped out before the coughs started again.

Dick pressed a hand to Tim’s forehead. Tim couldn’t resist leaning into the cool touch.

“You’ve got a fever, bud,” Dick said. “Lay back down. You’re staying in bed for now.”

Tim shook his head and immediately regretted the action. “No I’m--” the coughs came again in a sputtering fit. 

Dick rubbed his hand across Tim’s back, mumbling something about breathing and no more talking. “Lay down. I’ll see what we’ve got under the floorboard, okay?” And then he was gone.

Tim really wanted to do the opposite. He was  _ fine _ . A cough was nothing to worry about. The headache would definitely be confusing, but there was no reason for Tim to be a burden today.  _ Especially  _ today.

Damian had practically begged Dick for a trip to the movie theater this weekend. Dick had agreed upon it shortly after Jason had returned with his apology (Tim wasn’t sure he wanted to know how Jason had come by that money). And, just their luck, the movie theater was going to be showing a back to back viewing of some of the older Disney cartoons. Tim had been rather mortified that none of the boys had ever seen “ _ The Lion King _ ”. (…then again, that might be for the best, what with the father dying and all).

It didn’t matter now. Dick was definitely canceling the theater trip and Tim was now confined to bed for at least a day. Joy.

Dick reappeared, snapping Tim back to the present. “Out of cough syrup, but here’s some ibuprofen.” He pressed the pill into Tim’s hand, along with the bag of dry cereal. “Eat some of this, swallow the pill, then eat some more.”

“I know, Dick. M’ fine.”

Dick gave him one of his looks. The  _ ‘I don’t believe you for a second but I’ll just pretend I do’  _ look. Tim was very familiar with it.

Dick looked up towards Jason, who hadn’t gotten out of bed quite yet, “Jay, could you--”

“No.”

“Jason--”

_ “No.” _

Dick sighed, clearly exasperated. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you.”

“Yes, I do,” Tim heard Jason sit up and shuffle around before poking his head down over the side. He stared down, clearly annoyed. “And the answer is no. Tim’s a big boy, he doesn’t need cough syrup.”

Dick glared at him, “It doesn’t hurt to have some.”

Oh. Tim bit back another coughing fit by chugging down some water. It was cool and soothed his scratchy throat.

“You’re the one who’s worried about winter gear. We can’t spend money on something that we don’t need,” Jason was arguing.

“Jason, look at him!” Dick motioned at Tim, which Tim found a little rude. He was sitting right there.

Jason looked at him. “Timbit, do you need cough syrup?”

“No,” Tim managed to say without agitating his throat. It was true. Cough syrup was soothing on scratchy throats but not necessary.

“See?” Jason finally climbed down from the bunk. “Kids fine. You worry too much, Dicksie Stick.”

“...Never call me that again,” Dick said.

Jason snorted. “I can always call you something much, much worse so be thankful.”

Tim interrupted with another coughing fit. He grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to muffle the sound. It did not help. Tim pressed the thin blanket into his mouth and coughed and coughed. Dick was talking to Jason in an attempt to convince him about the syrup again. Tim silently cursed his immune system. The last thing he wanted to be was more of a burden.

“--tomorrow, okay?” Jason was saying.

Dick slumped in his seat in defeat, “Fine.”

Tim blinked. What had he missed? He opened his mouth to ask--only for more coughs to wrack his body.

This finally got Damian to sit up in bed, with an angry glare to match Tim’s disappointment in himself. Damian pulled his blanket closer around him and scooted up against his wall, as far away from Tim as possible. “I refuse to get whatever Drake has,” he informed the room, then proceeded to press his mouth and nose into the blanket.

Jason just rolled his eyes. “In the four years that I have known you, name one time you’ve been sick.  _ One  _ time.” He barely paused before rushing ahead, “That’s right, zero. So quit whining and be useful. What do you need, Dick?

“Uh… tissues, a cloth, and a bucket of cool water.”

“You heard him, baby bird.”

“Why don’t you get it, Todd?”

Jason shrugged, “Because Roman hates you least and if anyone can talk a bucket or bowl out of his kitchen, it’s you.”

Damian sighed loudly, “Fine. But I do it with protest.”

“Noted,” Dick and Jason said together. And with that, Damian marched out the door, leaving Jason and Dick to tend to Tim.

Tim hated being sick.

* * *

Ya’know, convincing Dick to wait until the following morning to get the cough syrup may not have been the best idea Jason ever had. But that didn’t mean he stood by it. Tim wasn’t a pushover and a cough did not mean the end of the world.

But did Tim have to be contagious?

Jason woke up to not one coughing fits but two because guess who caught whatever Tim had. Dickie Stick! So Jason now had a day of trying to convince Dick to stay in bed, sleep, and, oh yeah, get some cough syrup.

“Seriously, Dick? I said I’d get it if Tim was worse today--”

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Tim said, then immediately began to cough. It didn’t sound any worse but they certainly sounded painful.

“--but I think two people counts as worse, right?” Jason ignored Tim. The kid was probably lying anyway.

Dick was sitting up in bed and trying to tend to Tim like he wasn’t coughing as well. “I’m not sick.”

“And I’m Batman,” Jason shot back. “Now lay down you idiot. You have a fever of 101 and you don’t want it to get any worse, right?”

Dick glared at him. Jason didn’t even flinch. Dick sighed loudly but laid back down. “Fine. But I don’t need cough syrup. And make sure Tim gets the Ibuprofen.”

“You’re both taking some so stop complaining and eat your cereal.”

Dick frowned. “We only have a few pills left.”

“I can get more when I get syrup, alright?” Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, Dick had the self-preservation instincts of a lemming. “I’ll leave after lunch and be back before dinner. Alright?”

“...fine. But with protest.”

* * *

The pharmacy was out of what he needed, but the lady told Jason they were expecting a delivery later in the day. So he decided to wait outside on a nearby bus bench. The city was alive for a September day. Then again, the sun was out. People rushed past, ignoring the boy in the red hoodie, much too wrapped up in their own lives. Just the way Jason liked it.

So of course Gotham didn’t let it last.

After an hour or so of waiting, Jason was forced to return to the apartment empty-handed. See, some cities have tornado sirens. Others have some kind of storm warning system, whether that be through tech or just broadcasting over the airwaves. Gotham has a rogue alert. 

Of course, the alert wasn’t used for every single villain attack. Just the big ones or the ones that you might want to go home for. Heck, there are even different patterns for different kinds of threats. If the sirens are steady in tone and beat, then you should leave the city as soon as possible. If they are steady in rhythm, but start out as a high pitch, then drop to a low pitch, then you should return home and stay off the streets. If it is just high pitch squeals, then you need to put on your gas mask (and if you don’t have one then you must have missed the memo of needed supplies when you live in Gotham). There are a few other patterns that are supposed to indicate which villain is attacking, but those were rarely used. Those three patterns were the necessary ones to know, along with the hybrid patterns that they were involved with.

This particular alarm was the  _ “get off the streets and get inside” _ , then it switched to  _ “gas mask alert” _ for a minute, before going back to the  _ “seek shelter” _ warning.

Well, Jason’s gas mask was back at the apartment. And while Jason wasn’t afraid of a fight, he knew better than to stay put. The last thing he needed was lungs full of fear toxin. Or mind-control spores. Or Joker Gas.

Basically, he didn’t want to lose his mind.

When he got back, the others had already pulled the masks out and Dick was trying to help Tim get the straps around the back of his head, while Tim continued to cough. Damian tossed him the last of their masks (even Roman wasn’t foolish enough to not get one for each of them) and Jason slid it on.

Dick looked over with a questioning look in his eye. Jason shook his head. Dick’s only response was his own coughing fit acting up.

Jason took the bowl and rags from Damian. “Get some sleep, baby bird.”

“I am  _ not  _ a  _ baby _ .”

Jason ignored him, resting the cool rag against Tim’s burning skin. “Rest while you can. It might get a little loud tonight.” Two coughers plus whatever outside chaos might come. Definitely not a fun evening.

* * *

Good news: nothing had happened with the city. Apparently, someone had thought they saw Scarecrow unloading a bunch of fear toxins near city hall and had called the police. They took it seriously, which Jason knew he should be grateful for. The last thing he wanted was someone not taking a threat seriously and ending up passed out in the street screaming his throat raw.

Turns out it was a bunch of Halloween decorations for the town hall. Sure, the holiday wasn’t for over a month, but planning ahead and all that jazz.

Jason wanted to punch whoever thought that was a good idea because that shipment for the pharmacy was now delayed for the following day. No one traveled to Gotham during a rogue crisis. True, he could have just gotten a bus across town and checked another pharmacy but…

He had to save money. Yes, that was the reason. It had nothing to do with Dick waking up and thinking that Jason was his dad for a few seconds. Or the fact that Tim had hardly eaten anything in over twenty-four hours.

Most of Jason’s day was spent switching between the two of them, checking temperatures, shoving the last of the fever reducers down their throats, and keeping them entertained (if they were even conscious).

Damian did not particularly enjoy that last part. “Where did you even get that?” He pointed to the ratty and torn book. The cover had been ripped completely off and someone had taped it back very haphazardly.

Jason rolled his eyes, opening to the first page of  _ Matilda _ by Rohald Dahl. “A thrift store.”

“The pictures look weird,” Damian told him.

“It’s called illustrations and they are unique,” Jason replied. “Now, shut up. The book isn’t for you.” _ ‘It isn’t even for me.’ _ He cleared his throat and began to read aloud, _“_ _ It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful…” _

By the fifth chapter, Jason’s throat felt sore.

He started to cough a little less than half-way through.

Jason really hated Tim for being contagious.

* * *

Damian stood in the center of the bedroom. In one bunk lay Drake and Grayson, huddle together. Both were shivering but their temperature was much too high for personal comfort. Todd was in a similar state in the other bunk.

The past three hours had been Damian taking the stupid wet cloth and pressing it to everyone’s forehead. Sometimes he would take a break and read out of that stupid book Todd had started. Every hour he would pull out the cracked thermometer and check temperatures.

Grayson and Todd remained steady around 102-103 degrees Fahrenheit (or 38.9-39.4 degrees in Celsius because America had to be rebellious in everything).

It was Drake that was causing concern. Damian checked the number again.

103.8

It had been 103.2 that morning.

Grayson mumbled something in his sleep and Damian abandoned the thermometer for the cloth. He pressed it against Grayson’s forehead. Grayson’s eyes cracked open and he squinted blearily. “Baby bird?”

“Go back to sleep, Grayson.”

“Mmh,” Grayson mumbled. “Where’s Jason?” He had asked that at least three times today. Damian answered the same way he had.

“Resting. Like you should be.”

“Oh… right,” Grayson mumbled, coughing into his blanket.

Of course, that was when Todd decided to start coughing up again. Damian abandoned the cloth on Grayson’s face and fetched the water bottle. Todd was stubborn and refused Damian’s help in swallowing. It almost made Damian smile. Almost.

Grayson had already fallen back asleep by the time Damian got Todd to lay down again. Damian took the moment of silence to go out to the bathroom and get some more water.

Apparently, Damian had been distracted enough to have not heard Roman come down the hall and almost ran into him. The now warm water splashed in the bowl and some of it split on the floor and Roman’s house slippers.

Uh oh.

“Derek!” Roman yelled. He yanked the bowl out of Damian’s hands. “Where did you get this?!”

Damian did not correct the name. “The kitchen, sir. You allowed me to borrow it two days ago.”

“And you still have it?!” Roman shook the bowl, sloshing even more water onto the floor. “Why?”

“I told you when I borrowed it. Everyone is sick, sir” Damian replied as evenly as possible.

“I thought only Terry was sick.”

“Grayson and Todd caught what he has, sir.”

Roman narrowed his gaze. “I’m not going to have to call a doctor, am I?”

Damian saw the opening and he took it. “If I can get some soup from the kitchen, then no, sir.”

“Soup?”

“Canned soup, sir. They haven’t been able to eat anything because of the coughing. If they eat, then they will get stronger and there will be no need for a doctor, sir.”

Roman frowned. He looked down at the bowl, then shoved it back into Damian’s hands. The water sloshed all over Damian’s shirt and pants but Damian said nothing. “You have to get it yourself. And only one can. Soup ain’t cheap. Got it, Devin?”

Canned soup cost maybe a couple of dollars but Damian didn’t say anything.“Yes, sir.” Damian bobbed his head. “It should only take five minutes. You won’t even notice I’m there.”

“Better not,” Roman growled, then turned away. “And get me a can, while you’re at it.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

The soup had helped. A little. It was warm, but the broth was easy for everyone to swallow. Well, almost everyone. Drake was having difficulty and Damian had to get Grayson’s help to get just a few swallows down his throat.

Then again, none of them got more than a few swallows. One can of soup isn’t much for three people. Damian checked everyone's temperatures and read them aloud. He only felt a little bad about lying.

Grayson had gone down a tad, which was a good sign. Todd had jumped up to 103.5

Drake was 103.9

* * *

Damian waited until he was sure Grayson and Todd were asleep (Drake hadn’t moved since he had his soup other than his frequent coughs that wracked his body). He wet a cloth for each of the brothers and draped it across their foreheads and made sure the water bottles were in reaching distance. Then he shimmied under the bed and pried up the floorboard. He pulled out about twenty-five dollars, stuffed it in his pocket, then snuck down the fire escape. The sun had already set so Damian stuck to the shadows.

The corner store was still open, but it would be closing shortly. He moved quickly to the medicine aisle.

He bit back a few choice words at the lack of product on the shelves. Where in Gotham was the cough syrup??? Heck, where was the ibuprofen? Damian sighed and looked up to the ceiling. Why did everything have to be complicated for him?

“Can I help you?” One of the employees asked. She looked a bit annoyed and had her arms crossed across her body and the smile clearly forced.

“Where’s the cough syrup?”

“Our shipment has been delayed--”

Damian glared at her, not in the mood to be polite. “It has been delayed for three days. Where is it?”

The lady glared at him. “Look kid, our shipment got stolen or something and that’s all the cops will tell us okay? We’ll have the cough syrup in a week or so because we have to reorder it. Go somewhere else if you need it that badly.”

Damian wanted to throw something. “Next time, lead with that!” And then he stormed out of the shop, not caring what anyone thought of a child alone on the streets. The worker certainly didn’t care. He started in the direction of another corner store. Hopefully, they’d still be open by the time he got there. It probably wouldn’t be, but he didn’t exactly have a lot of options. He didn’t exactly trust buses at night.

He was about five minutes into his twenty-minute walk when Damian realized someone was following him. 

Great.

Damian increased his speed just a tad. His stalker picked up the pace as well.

He did not have time for this.

Damian went to duck into an alley. He could always climb up a fire escape and pull a Nightwing (aka parkour the best he can). Instead, he found himself face to face with a couple of homeless men.

Now, Damian had a pretty good relationship with some of Gotham’s homeless population. Emphasis on the  _ some _ . Take Victoria near the Narrows. She loved cats just as much, if not more than Damian. He would ask about her friends and she would introduce him to any new kittens she had found abandoned. In return, he’d share whatever food he had on him at the time. Or Edward, who switched between Bludhaven and Gotham, depending on the time of year. Edward used to be a teacher before he had fallen on hard times and was always willing to teach anything he could to Damian.

These guys didn’t look as nice as Edward or Victoria. One was sporting a bruised and freshly cut face and the other had a very nasty scar running down his jawline. Despite their living circumstances, they both appeared in decent health and more than able of decking Damian into unconsciousness. One was smoking a cigarette and both gave off the “don’t talk to me” vibe that Damian knew all too well.

Damian backed up just as quickly as he had appeared and found that his stalker was only a few yards behind him. The man was wearing a jacket and beanie, but that didn’t hide the very pointed look he was giving Damian.

Well, this was a problem.

Alright, Damian had two options. Run as fast as he could and pray he lost his stalker on the streets. He did not like that plan very much. The man was much taller than him which meant longer strides. And while Damian was confident in his ability to defend himself with his brothers as a backup, there was a reason he knew how to hide. He might have time to open up his bag and get his Batarang out, but then what? Grayson had banned him from throwing it or even playing around with it so Damian had no idea how to use it.

If he got out of this, he would be sure to rectify that mistake.

The second option, seek refuge with the two homeless guys and pray they were more morally driven than his stalker. Also not ideal.

The stalker was closer and Damian made a split-second decision. He entered the ally and very loudly called, “Sorry, the convenience store was out.”

The two homeless guys looked at him, then looked at each other. They had the look of,  _ “Do you know the kid?”  _ They turned back to Damian, now clearly suspicious.

Damian shuffled forward a little more, feeling the stalker growing closer. One man stepped further away, clearly not wanting to deal with whatever Damian was trying to get rid of.

He made another split-second decision and pulled out the bills in his pocket, “Here’s your money back.”

Both men shared another confused look. “Kid, I think you got us confused--”

The stalker appeared and Damian cursed himself for not running. The man had a bright smile and spoke almost kindly. “Hello. You lost, kiddo?”

Damian shook his head quickly. “No, sir. I’m just returning some money to some nice men who live outside my apartment.” Damian moved forward again and held the money out to the nearest man. “They didn’t have the painkillers. Here is your money.”

The man didn’t move for a moment, then took the precious dollars. “That’s alright, Freddy. Thanks for checking anyway.” He shoved the money into his pocket and Damian was unable to tell what he was thinking.

The other man suddenly piped up. “How’s the family, Freddy? Did your sister win the spelling bee?”

Damian resisted the urge to sigh in relief. “Afraid not. She made it to the final three though, so that was cool. Wyn sprained his ankle in gymnastic class though.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” he replied. “What did he do to do a thing like that?”

“He dismounted wrong. The doctors say he won’t be able to compete in this next competition.”

The stalker still hadn’t moved and Damian took a few steps closer to the homeless men. He was now fully in their reach if they wanted to lunge out and grab him. He sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that he had made the right decision.

The first man, the one with the bills, turned to the stalker and smiled, “Thanks for checking on our neighbor. Gotham can be a nasty place, y’know?” He patted his side and only then did Damian notice the bulge under the man’s jacket.

Oh, crap, he had a gun.

The stalker did a polite bob of his head and said something along the lines of being a pleasure or something then took off down the street faster than you could say “holy Batman”.

The man and Damian kept up the conversation until the stalker disappeared from sight. Damian tried to keep his heart from pounding and stay calm. He could maybe run before the man could shoot him or maybe--

The man who had been talking to him stopped and the tone shifted into something much more violent. Damian felt the panic rise up only to get shoved down at the curses spat out in the direction of the stalker. “That nasty, little--”

“Calm yourself, David,” the other said.

“I’ll calm myself when I want to, Joe! May Joker take that son of a--” David spat. He looked back at Damian, who resisted the urge to sprint. Again. “You okay, son?”

“Yeah… thanks for that.” Damian bit his lower lip.

Joe shook his head, “Shouldn’t be out this late, kid.”

“My brothers need cough syrup. I do not live far,” Damian replied.

David still looked angry. “No reason for your parents to send you out at eleven o’clock at night! You’re in Gotham for crying out loud!”

Damian chose not to respond to that. He hesitated a moment making another risky decision, but one he felt a little more comfortable with than just sprinting into the night. “Is it alright if I stay here for a few minutes? Wait for him to really leave?”

“Better idea,” David said, “How about we walk you home?”

“Thanks,” Damian said, “But I can handle myself for a few blocks.”

Joe smirked, “Not the smartest kid are you?”

“Just because you helped me now does not mean you will continue to do so,” Damian shot back. He bit his tongue to prevent the curses that he wanted to yell. Now, why would he say something like that? Idiot!

Neither Joe nor David appeared offended. Joe unfolded the bills from his pocket and held them out to Damian. “I believe this is yours.”

“... I gave it to you, fair and square.”

“Kid, we would have jumped in even without the money.”

“I do not like being in debt to someone.” The men did help him with a situation he did not want to really be a part of. They deserved some kind of thanks. Damian internally groaned. He had been spending too much time with Grayson.

David shook his head, “Just take the money, kid.”

Damian did not respond or move.

Joe sighed, pulled out half the money, then offered the rest to Damian. “Better?”

Damian hesitated but took the offered money. Better to have some than none. Grayson was already going to be annoyed that Damian lost money and got nothing out of it. There was no way he was going to get to the corner store in time now. It would be best to head back now and cut his losses.

“You run into trouble, you run straight back here, got it?” David told him.

Damian nodded, although he had no intention of doing so. He started down the street, David and Joe’s voices getting farther and farther away.

“--messed up. If I see that guy again--”

“Just tell our Dark friend what he looked like next time we see him. He’ll take care of it. Speaking of which, did you see the signal?”

“It’s kind of hard to miss, Davey.”

“Wonder what he’s up to tonight.”

Or maybe Damian could try another approach.

* * *

Gordon looked annoyed. Then again, Batman would be annoyed too.

Freeze had swooped in, stolen quite a few pharmacy shipments, then vanished without a trace. With the entire shipment. No picking, no sorting, just took the entire trucks, drivers, and all. None of the drivers had been killed, but two were in the ICU being treated for various freezer burns.

Now, three days later, they had finally gotten a lead on where Freeze might be hiding. Gordon had determined it was a good mission to team up on and was currently going through the plan on the cold rooftop.

Detective Yin accompanied him and would have access to Batman’s com unit, along with Gordon and Agent A. Batman already had access to the GCPD radio so there was really no reason to tell Gordon that (although the man probably knew it and just claimed deniability) so the private signal was the only way to communicate during the mission.

They had just finished the briefing and Batman was waiting for the moment to “disappear” when a car alarm down the street went off.

Gordon sighed. “You’d think crooks would know better than to steal a car just down the street from a police station.”

“It could just be a malfunction,” Yin said.

Batman had time before the unit was mobilized and on the way. “I’ll check it out. Meet you at the rendezvous.” And thus, Bruce was unable to vanish into the shadows. Pity. He grappled off the building and glided down about three hundred yards to the flashing and beeping car. There was no one in sight. The only thing that looked even a bit out of place was the dent in the door and the metal chunk that was laying next to it.

“Batman.”

No matter what the cowl footage showed, Batman did  _ not  _ turn around as fast as he could or bite back a shout of surprise. He knew someone was behind him and was not startled _ at all _ . Nor was he surprised that it was Damian of all people. It was not a surprise.

It  _ wasn’t. _

Damian stepped out of the shadows, hands in his pocket. He shifted on his feet, clearly nervous but trying to hide it.

“Robin,” Batman replied, just as even. “I did not think you were one for vandalism.”

“I am not,” Damian shrugged, “But I was unsure of how else to get your attention.”

Fair point. “And why did you need my attention?” Several scenarios flashed through Bruce’s mind, each worse than the last. Had Roman turned violent? Was one of the boys missing? Had one of them come across something they really shouldn’t have?

“I need cough syrup.”

… That was not what Bruce had been expecting. “...Can you not get some at a store?”

“The store does not have any. The only thing the employee could tell me was it had been stolen.”

Ah, now that made much more sense. “Mister Freeze has stolen several pharmaceutical trucks with various medical supplies. The police and I are following a lead tonight.” Should have he told that sensitive information to a child? Probably not. Did he care? Not particularly. Robin could keep a secret.

“Why would Mister Freeze need cough syrup?” Damian demanded.

“He probably does not. He needs certain medicines to help in his experiments. The ones he needed were in the delivery truck. He chose to just take the truck instead of sorting the supplies out.” Batman paused, “As soon as we recover the supplies we will hopefully be able to return it to the stores. It should be by late afternoon tomorrow or the day after that.”

Damian cursed.

“Is something wrong?”

“...Where is Freeze right now?” Damian looked up, eyes determined. 

“I am not telling you that.”

“I am just curious.”

“No, you are not and I can’t have you interfering with a police investigation and raid.”

Damian glared at him. “I need the syrup and fever reducers by tonight.”

“Why?” Batman asked.

“None of your business,” Damian snapped back.

“...Where are your brothers?”

Damian continued to glare at him, ignoring the question.

Batman thought for a moment. “If I promise to bring you what you need, will you head home?”

“...By tonight?” Damian asked, his tone carefully neutral.

Batman nodded stiffly.

Damian appeared to debate about something, then returned the nod. “Very well. But I am holding you to this.”

“Go home, Damian.”

If Damian was surprised by the name, he did well at hiding it. He disappeared into the shadows just as quickly as he appeared.

Batman couldn’t help but snort. So that was what it was like to have someone sneak up on you. Maybe he’d go easy on Gordon. At least for a week. Maybe a month.

* * *

It was stupidly easy for Batman to sneak a bottle of cough syrup and ibuprofen out of Freeze’s stash before the police raid even started. He just knocked out two goons, opened the truck, grabbed the items, then grappled to the roof. He left them there until the actual raid was done, Freeze’s men were in cuffs, and Freeze himself was on his way to Arkham.

A dismissal from Gordon was all Batman needed and he zipped up to the roof. The items were pocketed and off he went. It was almost three in the morning by the time he arrived at the Bird’s apartment. The plan was simple. Leave the medicine on the fire escape, rap on the window, then zip away and out of sight before one of the boys saw.

Damian ruined that plan immediately.

The moment Batman touched down on the fire escape, the window was shoved open and Damian held out his hands. “Well?”

Batman stared at him for a moment, then reached into the cape to produce the two bottles. Damian snatched the medicine away and replaced it with a few green bills. “For your time,” he explained, then retreated inside without another word.

Batman was left on a fire escape, fifteen dollars in hand. Bruce hesitated. He did not need the money at all so keeping it was out of the question. But where could he leave it so it didn’t blow away? The dumpster was out of the question. There was no way they would find it before someone else. Maybe he could just open the window and drop it inside? That would probably be best.

He pried the sill up a few inches and went to drop the bills inside when the sounds of a very wet, rough, and painful cough made him pause. Batman slid the window up, even more, allowing him to see into the room more clearly.

Jason was passed out on the bottom bunk to his right. He looked awful. There was really no other way to say it. Pale face, sweat dripping down his face, and clearly uncomfortable. The blankets were tied up around his limbs. His hoodie was in a pile next to the bed and it was the first time Bruce had ever seen Jason’s arms bare. What should have been smooth skin looked more like a battlefield. Cigarette burns laid as the base, small crater shapes painting the very ugly truth of Jason’s upbringing. They were all old, which gave Bruce some comfort--not enough to stop his teeth from clenching, but enough that he didn’t march down to Roman and throttle him right there. The more fresh scars were scattered and disorganized. Bruises from fights, cuts on fingers from glass (most likely break-in attempts gone wrong), and a few nasty scrapes and cuts from just general street life.

The coughs tore Bruce’s eyes away from the sight.

If Jason looked awful, Tim looked even worse. The boy was shivering, despite the fact that he was pressed against Dick’s side and had two blankets draped over him. He was pale and his coughs shook his whole body to the core.

Dick wasn’t much better, tossing and turning in his sleep. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded more like noise than words.

Damian was kneeling, back turned to Batman. If he knew Bats was there, he chose to ignore him. He had the cough syrup in hand and had a dose ready.

“Drake, stop coughing, I need you to take these,” Damian growled. He tried to pry Tim out of Dick’s grasp and sit him up, but Dick just moaned and held Tim even more tightly. Tim continued to cough, burying his face into Dick’s shirt.

One moment Batman was staring into the scene from the window, the next he was gently lifting Tim and Dick into a sitting position. Damian chose to ignore the vigilante in his room and forced the syrup down Tim’s throat, then Dick’s. Then Damian fetched the water bottle and had them swallow the Ibuprofen as well. They repeated the process on Jason, who actually woke up for a moment, but was too delirious to recognize what was happening.

Neither Damian or Batman spoke to one another as Damian took the three’s temperatures. He did not appear pleased at the numbers but was careful to hide the results from Batman. It was a little frustrating, but there was little he could do without forcing the boy, something he would definitely not be doing. So Bruce settled on just standing in a corner and waiting for a moment when Damian might need some assistance.

At five am, Bruce finally got a call from Alfred, who was a bit concerned about why he had not returned home. He slipped out the window to take it, but remained on the fire escape. Bruce quietly and quickly filled Alfred in on the situation. Alfred took the news with his usual stoic resolve then signed off with hardly another word.

Bruce was a bit confused by that. He returned to the room just as quietly as he left and if Damian heard the conversation, he did not acknowledge it. 

The Alfred mystery cleared a little less than an hour later when Alfred called the com again.  _ “I suggest you check outside, sir.” _

Bruce frowned but did as he was told. On the ground, just under the fire escape, was a large container of soup with four bowls and spoons ready to eat out of. He looked down the alley just in time to see a familiar black car drive by.

Damian made no comment about the food, but he did not dump it in the sink, so Bruce took that as a good sign. Soup was not breakfast food, but it was warm and just what the boys needed.

To make things even better, Alfred had brought it in a thermos.

Batman took his leave about seven am. He would check back tonight and plan from there. Perhaps he could get Leslie to make a house visit. Then again, she would insist on reporting Roman’s neglect to the police, something the Birds would be adamant against. Leslie would be in a worst-comes-to-worse situation. Perhaps he could Alfred come down and do a quick check.

He did leave a comlink with Damian. “Call me if it gets worse,” Batman told him as he climbed out the window.

Damian nodded stiffly. “Batman…” he called, then appeared to hesitate.

Batman did not move, waiting.

“Thank you.” 

And then the window slid shut.

* * *

_ Casefile: The Birds _

_ Subjects:  _ _   
_ _ Dick Grayson _ _ AKA “ _ _ Nightwing _ _ ”  _ _   
_ _ Jason Todd _ _ AKA “ _ _ Jay Bird _ _ ” _ _   
_ _ Timothy Drake _ _ AKA “ _ _ Crow _ _ ” _ _   
_ _ Damian _ _ AKA “ _ _ Robin _ _ ” _

_ Status: In progress _

_ Opened: June 19th 20XX: _

_ Closed: N/A _

_Reports:_ _  
_ _June 19th-_ _The Wharf_ _  
_ _June 27th- (Robin)_ _Jefferson and Phelps Alleyway_ _  
_ _July 13th-_ _Two-Face Bank Robbery_ _  
_ _July 30th- (Civilian Interaction)_ _Vreeland Charity Ball_ _  
_ _August 16th- (Jay Bird and Robin)_ _Gotham Public Zoo_ _  
_ _August 21st-_ _Riddler, Gotham Park_ _  
_ _August 30th- (Civilian Interaction)_ _Gotham Street Fair_ _  
_ _September 5th- (Jay Bird)_ _Batmobile Vandalism_ _  
_ _September 12th- (Nightwing and Robin) Freeze Caper_ _  
_**_→open report←_** ** _  
_** _Mister Freeze_ _stole various medical shipments from Gotham Wharf (_ _full report_ _). Most were recovered intact and undamaged._ _Robin_ _needed medicine for_ _Nightwing_ _,_ _Crow_ _, and_ _Jay Bird_ _, who have all fallen ill. I recovered the medicine and delivered it without incident. Robin trusted me enough to allow me into the apartment. Will be checking back on their progress._ _  
_ _It is unknown if_ _Roman James_ _is aware of his charges' illness or if he even cares._ _  
_ ** _\--Add on, September 13th_** ** _  
_** _Roman James does not seem aware of his charge’s health. All three appear to be doing better_ _  
_ ** _\--Add on, September 14th_** ** _  
_** _Nightwing and Jay Bird have appeared to fully recover from their fevers. Crow is doing better and should be well by the end of the week._ _  
_**_→end report←_**

_ Known affiliates:  _ _ Roman James _ _ , foster parent.  _ _ May James _ _ , foster worker. _

_ Attached Evidence: _ _   
_ _ Security Footage _ _ , June 19th, Wayne Ent. Property, Gotham Wharf _ _   
_ _ Security Footage _ _ , July 13th, Gotham City Bank _ _   
_ _ Security Footage _ _ , August 16th, Gotham Public Zoo _ _   
_ _ Batmobile Footage _ _ , September 5th, Crime Ally _ _   
_ _ Security Footage _ _ , September 12th, Corner Store _

_Connected Files and Reports:_ _  
_ _Social Services_ _, Dick Grayson_ _  
_ _Autopsy Report_ _, John and Mary Grayson_ _  
_ _Accident Report_ _, John and Mary Grayson_ _  
_ ** _“The Flying Graysons”_** _archive footage_ _  
__1990-1992_ _  
__1993-1995_ _  
__1996-1999_ _  
__2000-2002_ _  
__2003-20XX_ _  
_ ** _“Farwell Performance of the Flying Graysons”_** _  
_ _Social Services_ _, Jason Todd_ _  
_ _Criminal Record_ _, Willis Todd_ _  
_ _Arrest Records_ _, Willis Todd_ _  
_ _Court Record_ _, Willis Todd_ _  
_ _Arrest Record_ _, Cathrine Todd_ _  
_ _Health Records_ _, Cathrine Todd_ _  
_ _Autopsy Report_ _, Catherine Todd_ _  
_ _Gotham Gazette, Obituaries page_ _, Catherine Todd_ _  
_ _Social Services_ _, Timothy Drake_ _  
_ _Death Announcement_ _, Janet Drake_ _  
_ _Health Records_ _, Janet Drake_ _  
_ _Funeral Program_ _, Janet Drake_ _  
_ _Robbery Report_ _, Drake Manor_ _  
_ _Autopsy Report_ _, Jack Drake_ _  
_ _Gotham Gazette, Obituaries page_ _, Jack Drake_ _  
_ _Social Services_ _, Damian_ _  
_ _Health Record_ _, Damian_ _  
_ _Department of State Records_ _, Damian_ _  
_ _Health Record_ _, Timothy Drake_ _  
_ _Health Record_ _, Jason Todd_ _  
_ _Health Record_ _, Dick Grayson_ _  
_ _Financial Records_ _, Roman James_ _  
_ _Phone Records_ _, Roman James_ _  
_ _Financial Records_ _, May James_ _  
_ _Phone Records_ __, May James

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original chapter: Tim got sick, Dick and Damian go to get medicine and have to wait over four hours to get the medicine because Freeze stole the truck with it in it. Batman shows up, they exchange a few words, then go home.
> 
> New chapter: Three children get sick, a few days pass, Damian is almost attacked then saved by two random people on the streets, he recruits Batman to get medicine, Bats finds more about Jason's past but not directly, also Batman helps take care of sick children and Alfred gets to make soup for said sick children. Oh, and we meet Roman for about ten seconds because he's a jerk.
> 
> Me: *screams into a pillow because my brain better not do this for any more chapters in this story*
> 
> ANYWAY--
> 
> So Damian's focus chapter was back a few chapters and I totally forgot to share the songs I associate with him. But this chapter has a good Damian chunk, so I thought I would share them here-- although it comes with a disclaimer. They are songs that I relate to Damian in this story, but not necessarily the comics or movies he is in. You can totally use them for that as well, but I see them more with this story in particular. So "Would Anyone Care" is (once again) by Citizen Soldier and it is about suicide. Now I don't see Damian as suicidal but in this story, he has abandonment issues. So the question is more like if anyone would care if Damian just left. The answer is "yes" but he has issues. "A LIght To Call Home" by Julia Brennan and "Ghost" by Au/Ra are two other songs I associate with THIS particular Damian.
> 
> Weekly question: 
> 
> RIGHT, I NEED TO RANT-- What the HECK is DC doing with Damian right now????? Why is it that I have read fanfictions that are better than DC's storylines? I cannot tell you how badly I screamed when I saw what they did to my boy. What is he wearing? (And I found a typo. A TYPO. They forgot the "t" in the word "the" and I just started to laugh because what the KRIFF is going on over there DC???
> 
> Here's a different question that is much more fun: What has been your favorite moment in the story so far? I'm just curious and it is a much more positive question than my little rant above.


End file.
